3 


The 
Portion  of  a  Champion 


The 
Portion  of  a  Champion 


Francis  o  Sullivan  tighe 


New  York 

Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
1916 


COPYRIGHT,  1916,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  February,  1916 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  A  MEAL  AT  BRUDEN  MESGEDRA    ...  i 

II.  THE  STRANGER  WOULD  NOT  GIVE  WAY  .  16 

III.  DUFFA  GIVES  A  MESSAGE;    CONAL  ASKS 

FOR  A  PLACE 27 

IV.  GIFT  FOR  GIFT 39 

V.    CATHBAR  WAS  DELIGHTED 55 

VI.  THE  DEFENSE  OF  CATHBAR'S  DUN      .     .  68 

VII.      EOGHAN  THE  READY 84 

VIII.  THE  BROKEN  CLAN 92 

IX.  DULL  DAYS  AT  TARA 108 

X.  A  BULL-FEAST  FOR  CONAL 115 

XI.  " CONAL  WILL  NEVER  BE  KING"  ...  124 

XII.  "INCESTO  SPUMAVIT  REMIGE  TETHYS"     .  130 

XIII.  QUARTER,  AND  A  QUARREL 140 

XIV.  A  REPULSE 150 

XV.  THE  CAMP  OF  THE  BOCANOCHS      .     .     .  156 

XVI.    THE  KING'S  FAVOR 167 

v 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PACK 

XVII.  MARTIN  THE  STEWARD 182 

XVIII.  THE  KING'S  AMBITION 192 

XIX.  THE  SWORD  OF  THE  SKIES 205 

XX.  HEADED  BY  THE  LEGIONS 219 

XXI.  THE  HOSTAGE 231 

XXII.  BETRAYED 247 

XXIII.  A  CHAT  IN  A  GUEST-HOUSE      .     .     .     .  256 

XXIV.  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  HAY-WAIN    .     .     .  263 
XXV.  THE  GRATEFUL  GAUL 277 

XXVI.  IN  THE  BISHOP'S  GARDEN 290 

XXVII.  A  MEETING  ON  THE  HIGHROAD      .     .     .  298 

XXVHI.  LAEGAIRE  THE  HIGH  TANIST     ....  306 

XXIX.  FINULLA'S  STRATAGEM 320 

XXX.  UNDERSTANDING 336 

XXXI.  AN  END  TO  FIRBIS 345 

XXXII.  THE  CHAMPION'S  PORTION 356 


The 
Portion  of  a  Champion 


".  .  .  It  was  in  the  Year  of  the  World  5604,  the  Year  of 
Our  Lord  405,  Honorius  being  King  of  the  World  and  Stilicho 
General  of  the  Roman  forces,  that  Niall  of  the  Nine  Hostages 
made  a  foray  into  Gaul  and  wasted  the  valley  of  the  Loire. 

11  This  was  not  the  first  or  the  greatest  of  Niall' s  exploits,  for 
he  was  the  bravest  and  the  most  famous  and  powerful  of  all  the 
High  Kings  of  Ireland  up  to  that  time.  Throughout  his  reign 
he  was  busy  harrying  the  Roman  borders,  and  he  took  hostages 
not  only  from  the  provinces  of  Ireland  but  from  the  Gaels  of 
Alban,  the  Britons  of  the  south,  the  Picts,  the  Saxons,  and  the 
Gauls  of  Armorica  as  well,  and  it  is  from  these  nine  hostages 
that  his  name  is  given  him. 

"  Moreover,  he  forced  the  Leinstermen  to  pay  him  the  tribute 
which  they  had  refused  many  former  High  Kings.  It  was  this 
that  cost  him  his  life,  for  the  son  of  the  King  of  Leinster  saw 
him  bathing  in  the  Loire  and  creeping  up  on  the  opposite  bank 
slew  him  treacherously  with  an  arrow  shot. 

"His  nephew,  Dathi  the  Quick  with  Weapons,  came  after 
him,  not  without  fighting  for  the  throne.  Laegaire,  Niall's 
youngest  son,  was  chosen  as  DathVs  successor,  and  for  some 
years  the  island  was  peaceful  and  prosperous. 

"It  was  in  these  days  that  the  Huns  were  first  seen  in 
Gaul.  .  .  ." 

Here  the  story  commences,  in  the  reign  of  Dathi  the  Quick 
with  Arms. 


The  Portion  of  a  Champion 

CHAPTER  I 
A  MEAL  AT  BRUDEN  MESGEDRA 

Through  the  door  of  the  guest-house  a  great  light 
shone  out  over  the  crossroads.  From  within  came 
laughter,  the  thud  of  vessels  on  tables,  the  strong 
smell  of  cooked  meats.  Servants  with  caldrons  from 
the  kitchen  went  hurrying  between  the  outbuildings 
and  entered  the  hall.  There  was  merriment  in  the 
hostel,  assured  welcome,  and  plentiful  hospitality. 
The  door  stood  open  thus  always. 

Mesgedra  was  its  master,  a  man  famous  for  his 
great  bulk,  his  huge  beard,  and  his  booming  laugh — 
a  companion  for  kings.  In  days  past  he  had  borne 
his  part  well  in  war  and  council,  and  now  in  his 
old  age,  through  the  royal  favor,  kept  the  guest- 
house in  dignity  and  honor. 

He  stood  within  at  the  head  of  the  long  table, 
waiting,  ready  to  serve.  One  by  one  the  guests 
were  drawing  forward  their  seats.  Rapidly  the 
wooden  cups  were  filling  with  mead  and  ale,  and  the 
steaming  joints  were  being  lifted  from  caldron  to 
platter,  when  the  noise  of  horses'  hoofs  came  from 
outside,  and  the  loud  and  pretentious  creaking  of 


2  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

wheels — certainly  some  person  of  importance  ar- 
riving in  the  height  of  time. 

In  a  moment  he  entered  and,  advancing  to  the 
table,  saluted  first  the  host  and  then  the  company. 

He  was  young,  but  by  his  dress  and  air  accus- 
tomed to  demand  and  receive  consideration.  In 
appearance  he  was  personable  and  well  favored,  his 
skin  smooth,  without  those  scars  and  marks  of  old 
wounds  which  sometimes  might  repel  in  older  men, 
his  features  manly,  his  body  erect,  promising  strength 
and  agility.  But  there  was  a  hint  of  something 
consequential  hi  his  gait  that  was  not  attractive, 
an  arrogance  of  expression  which  did  not  well  suit 
his  youth  in  the  presence  of  so  large  a  company 
of  his  elders.  However,  his  greeting  was  courteous 
enough  and  the  guests  raised  their  knees  to  him  in 
return.  He  then  withdrew  for  a  moment  into  an 
alcove,  where  water  for  washing  had  been  set  and, 
returning,  took  a  good  seat  well  near  the  head  of 
the  table.  His  charioteer  and  attendants,  follow- 
ing him,  sat  where  they  found  room. 

Mesgedra,  carving  the  roast  calf  before  him,  ad- 
dressed him  politely: 

"A  fine  day  this  has  been,  but  the  roads  were 
dusty  and  the  sun  hot.  Have  you  come  far?" 

"A  two  days'  journey  for  the  horses  I  have  seen 
in  these  parts,"  answered  the  stranger  cavalierly, 
"but  as  I  had  a  span  of  the  true  Ulster  breeding,  I 
rose  early  and  have  come  from  Emain  Macha  since 
dawn. " 

"That  was  good  speed  for  a  man  not  accustomed 


A  MEAL  AT  BRUDEN  MESGEDRA  3 

to  driving,"  said  Mesgedra  dryly,  and  as  the  carving 
was  done  he  turned  to  direct  the  distribution  of  the 
portions. 

"The  head  for  the  smith,  Ochy,  and  the  chine, 
as  is  proper,  for  the  poet  yonder.  The  brisket,  you 
know,  is  the  brehon's  portion.  The  leg  for  the  young 
lord.  The  thigh,  the  portion  of  a  hero,"  he  added 
good-humoredly,  "none  other  claiming  it,  I  will  keep 
for  myself." 

"No  one  claims  it,"  laughed  one  or  two.  "It  is 
your  portion,  Mesgedra." 

"I  claim  the  thigh,"  said  the  young  stranger. 

Mesgedra  put  down  the  spit  and  looked  him  over 
in  some  displeasure.  Then,  smiling  whimsically: 
"You  are  young  to  be  so  famous,"  he  said,  "and 
until  we  know  your  name  it  is  not  strange  if  we  are 
slow  to  do  you  honor.  What  do  they  call  you  when 
your  glories  are  being  celebrated?" 

"My  name  is  Conal,"  said  the  young  man  soberly, 
"and  I  am  the  son  of  Cathbar,  who  is  sometimes 
called  'the  old  champion."1 

Mesgedra  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"I  knew  your  father  once,"  he  said,  "but,  believe 
it  or  not,  I  have  never  before  so  much  as  heard 
your  name.  Perhaps  the  poets  can  do  better. 
Ronan,  do  you  not  know  a  song  or  two  about  this 
fine  young  fellow?" 

"I  have  heard  of  Cathbar  Shanleh,"  said  a  round- 
polled,  dark-visaged  man  farther  down  the  table. 
"He  has  many  victories  to  his  credit,  and  no  doubt 
may  have  many  sons.  But  no  bard  has  made 


4  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

rhymes  about  them  to  my  knowledge — and  I  know 
many  rhymes." 

Mesgedra  turned  to  the  stranger  in  the  friendliest 
fashion. 

•  "You  see  how  ignorant  our  poets  are,"  he  cried 
cheerfully.  "I  can  see  no  way  but  for  you  to  sing 
your  own  feats,  an  easy  thing  for  you,  from  the 
way  you  praise  your  own  horses." 

"In  my  own  country,"  said  Conal  sulkily,  "I 
could  find  enough  bards  and  shanachies  to  tell  the 
story  of  my  house." 

"We  know  your  house,  and  we  know  your  clan," 
said  a  quiet  voice  at  his  side,  "but  men  without 
clan  or  name  have  taken  the  hero's  joint  before 
this,  and  no  man  takes  it  until  it  has  been  earned. 
Boy,  boy,  would  you  match  yourself  with  Mesgedra 
in  Bruden  Mesgedra  itself?  Why  not  go  to  Tara 
and  sit  in  the  High  King's  chair?" 

The  table  shook  with  laughter,  and  Conal  rose 
with  it. 

"By  the  gods  my  people  swear  by !"  he  shouted, 
"if  you  do  not  know  me  I  will  show  you  who  I  am, 
not  giving  satisfaction  but  taking  it.  I  call  for  any 
three  of  you,  except  only  Mesgedra — or,  if  he  will, 
I  will  meet  him  alone." 

A  stout  man,  red-faced  and  bald-headed,  had 
been  looking  on  with  disfavor  at  this  interruption 
to  the  former  comfort  and  good-will  of  the  meal. 
He  rose  to  his  feet  and,  pounding  on  the  table  with 
the  heel  of  a  bowl,  raised  his  voice: 

"Privilege  of  the  guest-house !    Law  of  the  guest- 


A  MEAL  AT  BRUDEN  MESGEDRA  5 

house !  Must  we  all  go  hungry  because  a  calf -noble 
chooses  to  crow?  It  is  a  breach  of  sanctuary  to 
talk  of  fighting  here,  a  thing  particularly  forbidden 
by  the  law.  Sit  down  all  of  you  and  be  judged ! 
Whoever  will  not  I  will  fast  on  him  until  I  wither 
to  a  skeleton." 

So  serious  a  threat  quelled  Conal,  and  he  sat 
down  slowly,  still  hot  with  indignation  but  silenced 
for  the  moment.  The  others  at  the  table  near  him 
assumed  a  more  serious  manner,  but  the  colloquy 
did  not  disturb  the  greater  number  of  the  guests, 
who,  having  no  interest  in  the  disposal  of  the  dis- 
puted joint,  proceeded  tranquilly  with  their  own 
allotments. 

The  baldheaded  man  of  law,  after  a  few  formal 
hems  and  admonitions,  called  upon  Conal  to  vindi- 
cate his  claim  to  the  thigh.  Accordingly,  he  rose 
and  began  to  speak. 

"I  have  told  you  my  name,"  he  said.  "My  home 
is  under  the  ramparts  of  Emain  Macha  of  Ulster. 
My  father  was  tanist  of  the  tribe  until  he  lost  his 
eye  in  battle,  and  my  brother  and  I  are  king  ma- 
terial. 

"My  brother  took  arms  at  seven  years,  and  is  a 
strong  champion.  I  was  fostered  by  a  noble  and 
experienced  warrior,  who  would  not  give  me  arms 
until  I  was  a  man,  ready  for  combat.  Three  days 
ago  I  proved  myself  with  the  sword,  spear,  mace, 
axe,  and  sling;  in  running  and  leaping;  in  defend- 
ing myself  from  blows;  in  the  care  of  my  horses, 
and  in  all  exercises  fit  for  men  and  warriors.  My 


6  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

father  was  pleased  with  me,  and  as  I  was  impatient 
for  the  feel  of  a  spear  in  my  hand,  and  the  sight  of 
the  road  before  me,  he  gave  me  attendants  and 
horses  and  sent  me  out  to  see  the  five  kingdoms, 
as  is  our  custom,  and  if  fortune  was  good,  to  slay  a 
Connaughtman. 

"With  my  shield  and  sword  he  put  upon  me 
three  heavy  prohibitions,  bonds  of  honor  not  to  be 
broken:  never  to  refuse  a  feast  or  entertainment; 
never  to  allow  a  single  man  to  pass  first  before  me 
through  a  ford;  never  to  omit  to  claim  the  highest 
seat  and  the  choicest  portion  if  the  option  were 
given  me. 

"It  was  this  and  not  discourtesy,  noble  brehon, 
which  led  me  to  demand  the  thigh  when  Mesgedra 
asked  if  any  other  claimed  it,  for  I  see  he  is  a  tried 
man  of  old  and  a  warrior  who  has  taken  satisfaction 
and  not  given  it." 

The  guests  nodded  one  to  another  in  satisfied 
comprehension,  while  the  brehon  pondered,  moving 
his  lips  as  he  repeated  verses  and  precedents  which 
might  apply  to  the  case.  Mesgedra,  however,  did 
not  wait  for  his  decision. 

"Hut!"  he  said,  "I  think  no  worse  of  the  boy. 
How  could  he  break  his  geasa?  After  all,  if  he  was 
in  bonds  to  ask,  I  was  'not  in  bonds  to  give.  Let 
him  eat  the  leg  that  belongs  to  him,  and  say  no 
more  about  it — perhaps  some  day  he  will  be  given 
the  thigh  without  asking  for  it." 

"Could  you  not  have  waited  for  me  to  speak?" 
said  the  brehon  indignantly.  "One  would  think 


A  MEAL  AT  BRUDEN  MESGEDRA  7 

you  had  learned  the  laws  yourself !  I  had  the  same 
thought  in  my  mind,  and  was  only  waiting  to  put 
a  thread  of  poetry  about  it  before  I  gave  it  out." 

He  was  much  hurt  by  this  disregard  of  his  dig- 
nity, and  sulked  and  pondered  for  a  long  time  until 
he  was  able  to  deliver  his  decision  in  due  form: 

"No  man  is  bound  to  restrain  himself  in  asking, 
For  supplication  is  pleasant  and  harmless. 
Every  man  may  ask  for  what  he  will, 
But  asking  is  not  always  to  receive." 

which  was  greeted  with  such  favor  that  he  com- 
pletely recovered  his  good  humor,  and  finished  the 
meal  very  pleasantly. 

So  did  they  all,  Conal  only  excepted,  for  he  could 
not  but  feel  the  amused  tolerance  with  which  the 
others  regarded  him. 

He  took  what  was  offered  him  in  silence,  and  when 
the  dinner  ended  and  the  table  was  cleared  he  was 
in  two  minds  whether  he  would  not  be  shown  at 
once  to  his  sleeping-place.  But  in  spite  of  himself 
he  was  absorbed  in  the  talk  around  him,  for  the  guests 
spoke  of  things  strange  or  altogether  new  to  him, 
and  spoke  of  them  casually,  as  things  common  and 
belonging  to  every-day  life;  they  spoke  of  men  whose 
names  had  for  him  a  flavor  of  the  remote  and  heroic, 
and  spoke  of  them  familiarly,  judging  them  as  they 
spoke,  and  giving  them  praise  and  blame. 

Conal,  fresh  from  the  seclusion  and  discipline  of 
his  foster-father's  rath,  felt  that  at  last  he  was  out 
in  the  world  among  men  worth  knowing,  observing, 


8  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

and  imitating.  Their  good-humored  raillery  seemed 
to  him  the  most  marvellous  wit,  their  more  sober 
comments  seemed  the  most  sage  philosophy.  He 
felt  very  young  and  inexperienced  listening  to  them, 
and  began  to  wonder  whether,  after  all,  his  horses 
were  the  splendid  animals  he  had  thought  them 
that  morning. 

Mesgedra  was  not  the  man  to  allow  any  one  at 
his  table  to  have  cause  to  complain  of  the  attention 
he  received  there,  or  to  feel  neglected  and  left  out 
of  the  company.  He  spoke  to  the  boy  pleasantly 
from  time  to  time,  affected  to  ignore  the  controversy 
over  the  joint,  and  at  last  succeeded  in  getting  him 
to  talk  of  himself  and  his  plans,  on  which  subjects, 
much  to  Mesgedra's  entertainment,  his  tongue  was 
inclined  to  run  freely. 

"While  I  am  travelling  I  intend  to  see  all  that  is 
to  be  seen  of  the  things  that  are  worth  a  man's 
attention.  My  foster-father  gave  me  a  thousand 
directions,  to  go  to  this  old  battle-field  and  that  one, 
poets'  birthplaces,  and  his  everlasting  Brugh-na- 
Boyne,  where  the  kings  are  buried.  But  I  have  no 
interest  in  grave-mounds  and  corpses.  The  least 
celebrated  live  warrior  is  more  to  me  than  a  thou- 
sand dead  heroes,  and  too  many  things  are  happen- 
ing every  day  for  me  to  waste  thought  on  the 
past. 

"I  think  it  would  be  only  suitable  for  me  to  pre- 
sent myself  at  Tara,"  he  continued  somewhat  pom- 
pously. "My  father  has  friends  around  the  High 
King  who  will  see  that  I  am  well  received.  I  am 


A  MEAL  AT  BRUDEN   MESGEDRA  9 

not  so  sure  what  other  places  are  worth  visiting  for 
a  man  on  a  pleasure  tour." 

"Put  off  your  visit  to  Tara  a  while,"  advised 
Mesgedra.  "They  say  the  High  King  has  been 
preparing  for  another  trip  abroad,  and  it  is  not 
likely  that  he  will  be  at  the  royal  rath  at  this  time. 
As  for  other  places  worth  visiting,  what  could  be 
more  inviting  for  a  young  man  than  the  Fair  of 
Tailtenn,  which  is  soon  to  be  held,  and  not  far  from 
here?"  ' 

"I  know  of  that  fair,  of  course,  but  is  it  really 
worth  seeing?  I  thought  it  was  a  place  where 
brehons  and  genealogists  gathered,  and  for  my  part 
I  like  jugglers  and  harpers  better." 

"You  will  find  jugglers  and  harpers  there  you 
may  be  sure,  and  every  other  sort  of  entertainment 
you  have  ever  heard  of." 

The  guests  near  him  assented  in  chorus. 

"There  are  races  there  and  games " 

"Merchants  with  their  wares  from  all  the  western 
world " 

"Kings  and  warriors " 


"Courtships  and  marriages " 

"The  best  of  feasting  and  fun  of  every  sort." 
"The  races  are  the  finest  in  all  Eirinn.  I  know 
I  took  a  horse  there  three  years  ago  that  I  thought 
could  not  be  matched  in  Meath,  but  when  I  saw 
the  steeds  they  had  there,  I  hid  mine  in  an  empty 
booth  and  went  about  on  foot." 

"But  perhaps  your  horse  was  not  like  mine," 
said  the  boy  so  seriously  that  Mesgedra  could  not 


10 

keep  back  a  smile.  "I  have  a  mind  to  go  there,  to 
show  them  what  horses  we  raise  in  Ulster  if  for  no 
other  reason.  They  will  seldom  have  seen  horses 
like  those  of  mine." 

"Very  like!  Very  like!"  said  Mesgedra.  "And 
you  will  do  well  to  go.  Almost  all  our  company 
here  to-night  are  bound  there,  and  I  myself  would 
be  loath  to  miss  it.  It  is  too  bad  that  the  High 
King  will  not  be  there  with  his  train;  but  without 
that  it  is  a  sight  that  you  will  remember  your  life 
long." 

"Did  you  say  that  the  High  King  was  preparing 
for  another  voyage?"  interrupted  one  of  the  guests 
across  the  table.  "That  is  good  news.  I  would 
like  well  to  make  the  passage  to  Alban  with  him, 
for  there  is  good  plunder  to  be  gotten  on  such  raids, 
and  not  a  little  glory." 

"I  think  he  aims  for  Gaul  this  time,"  said  the 
bard.  "However,  we  will  hear  more  of  it  at  the 
fair,  no  doubt." 

Conal  was  beginning  to  find  his  head  swimming 
and  the  smoke  annoying  him.  For  the  first  tune  in 
his  life  a  large  mead-cup  had  been  put  before  him 
at  the  beginning  of  the  meal,  and  the  liquor,  which 
he  had  up  to  this  tasted  only  by  sips  and  on  occa- 
sions of  ceremony,  had  been  poured  into  it  with  a 
lavish  hand.  He  had  drained  it,  although  the 
strong  mead  pricked  his  nostrils  and  stung  his  pal- 
ate, and  was  surprised  and  perhaps  a  little  taken 
aback  to  find  it  immediately  refilled  without  com- 
ment. This  was,  he  felt,  an  earnest  of  his  new 


A  MEAL  AT  BRUDEN  MESGEDRA  n 

manful  position,  and  seeing  that  those  around  him 
did  not  stint  their  drafts,  he  played  his  part  with 
the  cup  and  filled  and  emptied  it  three  or  four  times. 

His  speech  was  becoming  a  little  labored,  his 
laugh  high,  and  he  began  to  take  part  in  the  general 
conversation. 

His  host  saw  that  those  about  him  were  watch- 
ing him  with  covert  amusement,  and  he  easily  and 
tactfully  used  the  excuse  of  the  boy's  long  journey 
to  bring  it  about  that  he  excused  himself,  and  sway- 
ing a  little  in  his  walk,  went  out  into  the  air. 

The  soft  moonlight  was  pleasant  after  the  glare 
of  torches.  The  cool  breath  of  the  night  blew 
gratefully  on  his  face.  Still  dizzy  for  a  moment,  he 
leaned  against  the  door-post  and  composed  himself. 
Then  he  began  to  walk  between  the  buildings,  step- 
ping carefully  to  avoid  stumbling,  with  some  far 
from  clear  idea  of  looking  after  his  horses. 

He  passed  the  kitchen  and  the  granary  and  en- 
tered the  shadow  of  a  large  house,  set  somewhat 
apart  from  the  other  buildings  of  the  bruden. 

As  he  walked  he  sang  lurchingly: 

"'Fairest  sound  of  all  to  me, 
The  bay  of  dogs  in  chase  of  swift  deer,' 
Said  the  sharp-speared  son  of  Lugaid." 

A  single  deep  rumble  gave  him  warning.  He 
stood  still  instantly,  his  senses  all  alert,  but  the  great 
wolfhound  had  already  made  his  spring,  and  he  was 
thrown  to  the  ground  and  rolled  over  and  over  with 
the  shock  of  the  blow. 


12  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

Only  the  dog's  muzzle  saved  him  from  death,  and 
even  that  was  loose  enough  to  permit  a  severe  bite 
had  not  the  dog,  trained  to  jump  for  the  throat, 
dodged  about  waiting  an  opening  for  his  favorite 
hold. 

Conal  could  not  have  suppressed  the  cry  that 
burst  from  him.  He  twisted  his  body  in  an  effort 
to  roll  under  a  chariot  that  stood  by  with  its  shafts 
resting  on  the  ground,  too  low-bodied  to  permit  the 
hound  to  get  at  him  if  once  he  could  gain  its  shelter, 
but  the  shafts  and  wheels  were  turned  sideways, 
and  blocked  the  space.  In  the  shadow  the  dog's 
really  enormous  body  loomed  as  large  as  an  elk. 
Its  quick  breath  and  the  terrifying  depth  of  its  voice 
were  in  his  ear.  He  had  no  weapon;  he  gave  him- 
self up  for  lost. 

"Help,  some  one!"  he  shouted.  "The  dog  will 
kill  me." 

"Bran!  Bran!"  cried  a  shrill  voice  behind  him. 
"Be  still!  Good  dog!" 

Some  one  ran  lightly  past  him,  seized  the  beast's 
collar,  and  spoke  to  him  soothingly.  Unwillingly 
the  dog  allowed  himself  to  be  headed  away  from 
his  quarry.  His  growl  died  to  a  grumble,  and  he 
crouched  down,  head  on  paws,  only  partly  satisfied, 
ready  to  resume  the  offensive  at  the  least  encour- 
agement. The  dog  disposed  of,  Conal's  arm  was 
taken  firmly  and  he  was  led  into  the  moonlight. 

His  preserver  looked  at  him  steadily.  It  was  a 
young  girl,  hardly  of  Conal's  own  years,  but  her  air 
of  assurance  and  authority  was  such  that  he  could 


A  MEAL  AT  BRUDEN  MESGEDRA  13 

not  help  feeling  on  trial  and  likely  to  be  sternly 
dealt  with. 

"It  is  your  good  fortune  alone  that  has  saved 
you  this  night,"  she  said  accusingly.  "If  his  muzzle 
had  been  loosened,  I  could  not  have  been  quick 
enough.  Why  are  you  wandering  here  hi  this 
fashion?  Do  you  not  know  enough  to  keep  to 
your  own  quarters  in  another  man's  house?  If 
Mesgedra  had  found  you  lurking  about  my  grianan 
the  hound  would  be  fed  full  by  now.  Answer  me, 
for  if  I  call  there  are  those  within  hearing  who  will 
be  less  patient  than  I." 

"I  am  a  guest — a  traveller,"  muttered  Conal. 
"I  came  out  to  breathe  the  air,  to  look  after  my 
horses.  I  meant  no  harm.  But  that  miserable 
dog — if  I  had  had  my  spear  by  me  he  would  not 
have  charged  another  tune." 

"Why,  it  is  only  a  boy,"  said  the  girl  in  disgust, 
"and  a  boy  who  has  had  more  ale  than  is  good  for 
young  people.  I  will  tell  them  in  the  hall  to  be 
more  careful  how  they  serve  such  lads  as  you  with 
strong  drink.  I  acquit  you  of  evil  intention,  and 
advise  you  to  shun  the  mead-horn  till  your  head  is 
older." 

She  took  the  dog's  leash  in  her  hand  and  turned 
away. 

"You  have  saved  me  from  an  ugly  plight,"  said 
Conal  desperately,  "but  I  could  almost  wish  that 
you  had  left  me  to  the  hound's  mercies,  for  those 
merry  clowns  in  the  hall  have  had  one  chance  to 
laugh  at  me  to-night  and  I  will  not  bear  any  more 


14  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

of  their  ridicule.  I  will  call  my  men  and  be  gone 
first.  That  sneaking  bard  in  there,  he  will  sing 
verses  about  me  and  the  dog  wherever  he  goes,  and 
I  will  be  a  laughing-stock  for  all  Meath." 

"I  have  not  said  that  I  would  tell  about  the  dog, 
and  indeed  I  do  not  blame  you  for  not  wanting  the 
men  in  the  guest-house  to  know  of  it;  for,  believe 
me,  if  you  could  have  had  a  sight  of  yourself  rolling 
on  the  turf  with  Bran  bounding  about  muzzling  at 
you,  you  would  have  found  it  hard  not  to  have 
laughed  at  yourself." 

"You  take  it  very  easily  that  I  was  all  but  man- 
gled by  the  brute,"  said  Conal  peevishly. 

"I  do  not  laugh  at  the  mangling  he  did  not  give 
you,  but  at  the  fright  you  did  get.  After  all,  how 
did  you  know,  and  how  do  you  know  now,  that  he 
is  not  an  old  toothless  mumbler,  the  grandfather  of 
the  kennels?  That  would  make  it  more  laughable 
still." 

"You  are  fond  of  teasing,  I  see,"  said  Conal 
stiffly.  "Tell  it  if  you  must.  I  will  ask  no  courtesy 
from  you." 

"Oh,  it  is  nothing  to  me!"  answered  the  girl. 
"I  will  have  forgotten  it  by  morning.  And  now 
seek  your  own  quarters  if  you  wish  your  adventure 
to  go  unnoticed,  for  I  will  be  missed." 

Voices  from  inside  the  house  showed  that  as  a 
matter  of  fact  others  were  approaching  the  door. 

Conal  felt  ashamed  as  he  realized  that  the  girl 
was  about  to  leave  him  before  he  had  said  a  word 
of  acknowledgment  or  thanks. 


A  MEAL  AT  BRUDEN  MESGEDRA  15 

"Forgive  my  not  speaking  of  thanks  to  you,"  he 
said  hastily,  "but  I  was  really  much  shaken  by  that 
beast's  charging  me  out  of  the  darkness.  I  did  not 
know  if  he  were  not  something  more  than  hound. 
To-morrow  I  will  seek  you  and  say  what  is  fitting." 

"Count  it  as  said,"  said  the  girl  gayly.  "To- 
morrow I  go  to  Tailtenn  fair,  and  I  will  be  gone  by 
dawn." 

She  passed  swiftly  into  the  house,  and  after  a 
moment  Conal  turned  away  and  walked  briskly 
back  to  the  guest-hall. 

He  peered  about  for  his  charioteer,  where  he  was 
bent  over  a  chess-board  in  the  corner,  and  shaking 
him  by  the  collar  said  sharply:  "To  bed  now,  Car- 
bry;  there  is  work  for  you  to  do  to-morrow.  We 
will  be  up  at  dawn  again,  and  off  to  Tailtenn  to  the 
fair." 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  STRANGER  WOULD  NOT  GIVE  WAY 

Conal  woke  with  a  burning  throat,  a  strange, 
swollen  feeling  about  the  eyes,  and  a  complete  dis- 
taste for  mead.  The  day  was  little  advanced,  but 
promised  to  be  clear  and  pleasant.  He  dressed 
hastily  and,  running  out,  overlooked  the  harnessing 
of  his  horses.  Carbry,  a  sober  man,  grumbled  at 
the  fastidiousness  with  which  he  examined  every 
buckle,  not  sparing  criticism  or  even  abuse  at  the 
least  lack  of  care.  With  his  own  hands  he  put  the 
last  touches  to  the  grooming,  smoothing  down  with 
his  palm  the  glossy  legs  of  one  horse,  and  rebraid- 
ing  the  mane  of  the  other.  Satisfied  at  last,  he 
took  the  rod  and  drove  to  the  door  of  the  hall. 

One  or  two  servants  loitered  about  the  doorway, 
one  or  two  belated  guests  lingered  over  their  milk 
and  oat-cakes,  but  no  merry  party  was  mounting 
for  the  day's  jaunt,  no  saucy  and  provoking  maidens, 
such  as  he  had  dreamed  of  that  night,  were  to  be 
seen. 

Yes,  they  told  him,  Mesgedra  was  gone  some  time, 
the  guests  and  ladies  with  him.  They  would  be 
gone  an  hour  or  more  by  now,  but  those  were  fine 
horses  the  young  flaith  had,  perhaps  he  could  over- 
take them.  Would  he  have  a  flask  of  sour  milk  for 

16 


THE  STRANGER  WOULD  NOT  GIVE  WAY    17 

his  journey?  There  it  was,  then,  with  the  blessing 
of  Bel.  The  road  was  to  the  right,  but  there  was  a 
short  cut  after  one  passed  the  crooked  sloe-tree 
which  leaned  over  the  pond. 

Conal  thanked  them  and,  swinging  his  horses 
onto  the  road,  urged  them  into  a  good  pace.  Soon 
he  came  to  the  crooked  sloe,  where  a  sunken  byway 
led  off  over  the  moorland,  and  took  to  it,  his  chariot 
rolling  along,  consuming  the  miles.  The  fresh  and 
powerful  horses  tugged  at  the  halter  and  started 
playfully  at  the  touch  of  the  rod.  His  attendants, 
not  so  well  provided  with  horseflesh,  were  long  since 
left  behind. 

The  road  wound  in  and  out  between  small  hills, 
most  often  wooded,  and  Conal  soon  lost  all  sense 
of  distance  and  almost  of  direction.  At  last,  when 
noon  was  drawing  near,  the  bypath  rejoined  the 
main  road  which  stretched  white  in  both  directions, 
empty  except  for  a  single  chariot  moving  slowly 
along  it  in  advance  of  him. 

Conal  gave  up  all  hope  of  joining  Mesgedra  and 
his  party,  for  he  had  no  way  of  knowing  whether 
they  were  before  or  behind  him,  nor  indeed  could  he 
guess  how  far  he  had  come  or  where  he  was. 

He  drove  on  to  overtake  the  chariot  ahead,  and 
came  rapidly  up  behind  it.  The  road  at  this  point 
ran  close  beside  a  small  stream,  and  at  a  short  dis- 
tance dipped  to  a  crossing.  Conal  saw  that  the 
driver  of  the  other  chariot  would  hi  a  moment  be 
in  the  ford. 

"I  had  little  fortune  with  my  first  prohibition 


1 8  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

last  night,"  he  thought,  "and  I  must  hurry  before 
another  one  is  broken.  There  will  be  no  luck  be- 
fore me  in  my  journey  if  I  let  this  fellow  go  first 
through  the  ford." 

He  prodded  his  horses  and  forced  his  chariot  up 
on  the  other,  so  that  the  hubs  of  the  wheels  ground 
together,  and  they  both  came  to  a  stop  at  the  very 
edge  of  the  water. 

•  The  other  driver  was  a  man  of  much  more  than 
Conal's  age.  His  clothing  was  old  and  worn, 
though  of  good  fashion.  Here  and  there  a  withe 
was  missing  from  the  wickerwork  of  his  chariot. 
His  horses,  though  strong,  were  poorly  cared  for. 
The  paint  on  his  shield  was  battered  and  defaced, 
but  his  weapons  were  clean  and  bright,  and  the 
long,  slender  blades  of  his  spears  were  as  sharp  as 
the  stone  could  make  them. 

He  looked  angrily  around,  and  bellowed  in  a 
voice  that  gave  an  ill  promise  of  the  quality  of  his 
temper: 

"What  are  you  about,  youngster?  You  will 
have  us  both  hi  the  water  in  a  moment.  If  the 
owner  of  those  horses  knew  how  poorly  you  manage 
them  he  would  get  another  stable-boy.  Back  easily 
now,  and  lay  your  horse-rod  across  their  necks! 
Not  that  way !  Crom  Cruach  and  his  twelve  sub- 
gods  blight  you!  You  have  brains  of  mutton 
tallow!" 

"I  know  perfectly  how  to  manage  the  horses," 
said  Conal  soothingly,  "and  you  are  not  in  the 
slightest  danger.  I  am  only  trying  to  get  to  the 


THE  STRANGER  WOULD  NOT  GIVE  WAY     19 

ford  first,  for  I  am  under  strong  geasa  not  to  allow 
any  one  to  pass  through  a  ford  before  me,  a  prohibi- 
tion not  to  be  broken." 

"That  is  all  very  brave  and  knightly,"  said  the 
stranger,  smiling  in  spite  of  himself,  "and  it  is  very 
honorable  to  have  such  geasa  on  one — though  it  is 
to  be  feared  that  they  have  a  tendency  to  shorten 
the  life.  And  now,  how  do  you  propose  to  go  about 
making  good  the  same?  For  I  assure  you  I  do  not 
intend  to  let  you  crowd  past  me  like  a  calf  past  a 
cow  merely  because  you  say  that  such  is  your 
geasa,"  and  he  drew  his  horses  and  chariot  bodily 
across  the  way. 

"If  I  say  it  you  may  be  sure  it  is  so,  and  I  will 
make  it  good  in  such  way  as  seems  best  to  me. 
Best  for  you  to  clear  the  way  and  let  us  go  on  in 
peace." 

Conal  felt  a  little  uneasy  in  spite  of  his  bold 
speech,  for  the  stranger  had  evidently  no  idea  of 
giving  way,  and  there  was  something  very  wicked- 
looking  in  the  way  his  weapons  hung  so  handily  in 
their  worn  leather  loops. 

They  stood  for  a  moment  measuring  each  other 
with  their  eyes.  Then  the  stranger  leisurely  loos- 
ened his  cloak  and  put  his  plain  bronze  pin  away 
in  a  little  bag. 

"You  are  really  a  very  good-looking  young  lad," 
he  remarked  thoughtfully,  "and  the  man  who  put 
such  prohibitions  on  you  must  have  thought  highly 
of  your  qualities — granting  that  he  was  not  your 
worst  enemy.  I  have  in  mind  not  to  harm  you 


20  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

greatly  unless  my  temper  is  roused,  so  take  care 
not  to  vex  me  by  damaging  my  linen  shirt,  which 
I  value  highly.  Will  you  fight  with  close  hard 
wrestling,  or  with  rough  swords,  or  with  throwing 
sharp  spears?" 

"I  will  throw  sharp  spears  with  you,"  answered 
Conal  after  some  consideration,  for  his  adversary 
was  much  weightier  than  he,  and  he  thought  it  best 
to  trust  to  his  marksmanship. 

"Will  you  fight  from  the  chariot  or  on  foot?" 
pursued  the  other  gravely. 

"From  the  chariot,"  replied  Conal  after  again 
reckoning  his  best  chance. 

"That  is  just  what  I  would  have  chosen  myself, 
and  just  what  I  would  have  advised  you  to  choose," 
said  the  stranger,  suddenly  growing  very  affable. 
"I  am  a  hard  man  at  wrestling,  and  unmatched 
with  swords,  but  my  spear-throwing  is  nothing  at 
all  remarkable,  so  that  it  will  be  good  practise  for 
both  of  us." 

They  drew  apart  a  little,  keeping  punctiliously  at 
equal  distances  from  the  ford.  Then,  at  a  mutual 
signal,  they  came  dashing  together.  Conal,  over- 
eager,  threw  first.  The  spear  went  straight  and 
swift,  but  the  other  countered  it  with  a  slight  mo- 
tion of  his  shield,  so  that  it  did  not  even  pierce  the 
hide,  but  fell  harmlessly  to  the  ground.  The  chariots 
passed  one  another,  turned  again,  and  came  back. 
Again  Conal  made  a  cast,  and  again  his  opponent 
avoided  it  with  no  apparent  effort,  but  as  he  moved 
his  arm  a  worn  place  in  his  voluminous  linen  shirt 


THE  STRANGER  WOULD  NOT  GIVE  WAY    21 

gave  and  ripped.  Up  to  this  time  he  had  made  no 
offensive  movement,  but  when  he  felt  the  cloth  tear 
he  snatched  a  spear  from  beside  him,  and  threw  it, 
butt  foremost,  with  such  incredible  swiftness  and 
force  that  it  struck  the  top  of  Conal's  shield  before 
he  could  brace  himself,  drove  the  rim  of  it  back 
against  his  chest,  and  glancing  up  struck  him  a  blow 
on  the  jaw  that  sent  him  headlong  over  the  side  of 
the  chariot  to  the  earth. 

After  a  long  period  of  pain  and  semiconsciousness 
he  began  to  come  slowly  to  himself.  Some  one  was 
dashing  cold  water  on  him  in  a  very  annoying 
fashion,  making  him  gasp,  and  at  every  gasp  sharp 
pains  ran  through  his  chest.  His  face  felt  pulled 
all  to  one  side.  He  knew  that  he  had  met  with 
some  serious  injury,  and  was  probably  at  the  point 
of  death. 

Gradually  his  mind  became  clearer  and  he  dis- 
tinguished voices  around  him,  cheerful  voices  which 
laughed  and  spoke  jestingly.  His  enemies  were  re- 
joicing at  his  downfall.  He  opened  his  eyes. 

He  was  surrounded  by  a  circle  of  men  whose  faces 
he  vaguely  remembered.  One  of  them  was  sluicing 
water  over  him  at  intervals,  the  others  watched  him 
with  broad  smiles.  From  behind  him  came  a  ring- 
ing girlish  voice.  He  tried  to  move  and,  finding 
that  no  great  pain  followed,  rolled  himself  over. 
Mesgedra  stood  near  by,  with  Ronan  the  bard  and 
the  bald-headed  brehon.  The  stranger  of  the  ford 
was  telling,  with  much  gesticulation,  a  story  to 
which  the  others  were  listening,  convulsed  with 


22  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

mirth.  A  little  apart,  observing  him  intently  with 
an  expression  of  playfully  malicious  glee,  sat  the  girl 
of  the  night  before,  the  girl  in  whose  eyes  he  had 
hoped  to  magnify  himself  with  all  his  fine  harness. 

He  turned  back  and  pretended  to  be  still  uncon- 
scious. But  this  expedient  could  not  serve  him  for- 
ever, and  realizing  that  he  was  making  much  of 
what  was  after  all  only  a  slight  hurt,  at  last,  sum- 
moning his  courage,  he  sat  up  suddenly  and  faced 
them. 

He  was  glad  that  he  had  done  so,  and  was  relieved 
when  he  had  taken  a  look  about  him,  for  their  faces, 
though  amused,  were  friendly  and  even  in  a  measure 
respectful. 

"Yourself  again,  youngster?"  cried  the  stranger. 

"None  the  worse  for  your  tumble,  my  boy?" 
asked  Mesgedra. 

"None  the  worse,"  answered  Conal,  rising  with 
one  hand  to  his  jaw.  He  looked  himself  all  over, 
tried  each  limb  and  joint.  "None  the  worse,  and 
ready  to  go  on  whenever  our  friend  here  is  ready." 

"Enough  for  one  day!  Enough!"  said  Mes- 
gedra. "Luck  does  not  last  long  when  it  is  tempted. 
I  know  of  no  one  else  who  has  come  off  as  easily, 
fighting  with  my  old  friend  Brian  here,  particularly 
when  you  were,  as  he  tells  me,  the  cause  of  his  tear- 
ing his  shirt,  a  garment  which  he  prized." 

"You  say  well,  and  it  is  a  very  fine  piece  of  linen, 
as  you  can  see,  not  to  speak  of  the  beautiful  em- 
broidery." Brian  displayed  a  tattered  sleeve  osten- 
tatiously as  he  drew  the  bronze  pin  out  of  its  bag, 


THE  STRANGER  WOULD  NOT  GIVE  WAY    23 

and  once  more  adjusted  his  cloak.  "But  I  bear  no 
malice,  and  indeed  he  is  a  fine,  impudent  young  lad, 
and  will  go  far  in  his  day,  with  proper  training.  I 
must  teach  you  to  pull  spear  and  throw  with  the 
one  movement.  You  waste  too  much  time  taking 
aim,  which  is  useless  when  you  fight  on  wheels. 
One  learns  to  aim  by  instinct." 

Conal  noticed  that  all  the  others  closed  in  on  him 
and  listened  with  the  deepest  attention  and  respect 
while  he  went  on  with  a  little  lecture  on  the  use  of 
the  throwing-spear  and  the  comparative  merits  of 
broad  and  narrow  spear-heads,  and  this  perhaps 
did  more  to  convince  him  of  the  character  and  skill 
of  the  man  he  had  had  to  deal  with,  and  to  satisfy 
him  that  he  had  come  well  out  of  the  affair,  than  did 
his  own  catastrophe,  which  he  had  been  tacitly  as- 
cribing in  his  own  mind  more  to  chance  than  to 
any  superiority  on  the  stranger's  part.  It  was 
pleasant  for  him  to  feel  that  there  was  no  disgrace 
in  his  downfall — that  rather  it  was  a  matter  of  pride 
to  have  fought  such  a  man  on  equal  terms,  and  the 
attitude  of  the  bystanders  assured  him  that  this 
was  so. 

It  was  now  about  the  hour  of  the  midday  meal, 
and  they  began  to  look  about  them  for  a  convenient 
place  for  taking  it. 

"If  there  were  a  guest-house  hereabout,"  said 
Mesgedra,  "I  would  say  that  we  had  come  far 
enough  for  this  day,  particularly  since  young  Conal 
has  been  so  roughly  handled." 

"I  am  not  as  badly  hurt  as  that,  Brugaid  Mes- 


24  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

gedra,  so  do  not  think  of  me,  nor  cut  your  journey 
short  for  my  sake,  for  I  never  felt  better  or  more 
like  travelling." 

"AH  the  same  your  face  is  somewhat  one-sided, 
so  that  you  will  have  trouble  keeping  your  balance 
in  the  chariot.  Let  Brian  give  you  a  blow  on  the 
other  side  to  make  all  even  again." 

"Willingly,"  offered  Brian,  reaching  out  his  knotty 
fist,  "for  I  do  not  like  to  leave  my  work  half  done." 

"Prove  to  me  first  that  the  second  lump  will  not 
be  greater  than  the  other,  which  would  be  no  gain 
to  me,"  said  Conal,  dodging  the  playful  blow. 

"For  my  part,"  persisted  Mesgedra,  "I  am  ready 
to  call  a  halt  if  any  one  knows  of  a  hospitable  dun 
where  so  many  of  us  will  be  well  received." 

"There  is  such  a  dun,"  said  Brian,  "and  I  know 
the  lord  of  it  well.  He  is  called  DufTa  the  Ollave, 
for  he  is  both  druid  and  poet.  He  has  taken  gifts 
of  me,  and  there  has  been  stock  of  mine  in  his  pas- 
tures. It  would  be  strange  if  there  was  not  a  wel- 
come there  for  all  of  us." 

"I  have  heard  of  that  druid,"  said  Mesgedra. 
"They  say  he  has  strange  gifts,  the  knowledge  of 
the  working  of  spells,  and  power  over  mists  and 
storms.  I  would  be  glad  to  see  such  a  man." 

"I  cannot  say  for  that,"  answered  Brian  somewhat 
brusquely,  "enough  for  me  if  he  has  power  to  slay 
swine  and  knowledge  of  the  cooking  of  cabbages.  I 
bother  my  head  very  little  over  spells  and  witchcraft." 

He  took  the  lead  and  the  others  followed  him  in 
order. 


THE  STRANGER  WOULD  NOT  GIVE  WAY    25 

Now  and  again  Brian  would  chuckle  to  himself 
and  repeat:  "He  told  me  not  to  be  afraid  of  danger, 
for  he  was  skilled  in  managing  horses." 

Whereupon  Mesgedra's  resonant  laugh  would 
ring  out,  and  he  would  lean  over  and  clap  Conal 
on  the  shoulder,  who  took  it  all  in  good  part,  seeing 
that"  they  thought  the  better  of  him  for  his  assur- 
ance. The  ladies,  too,  jested  with  him,  and  espe- 
cially the  maiden  who  had  saved  him  from  the 
hound  would  laugh  merrily,  showing  her  white  teeth 
so  that  Conal  could  not  keep  his  eyes  from  her. 

If  he  had  ever  seen  a  fair  woman,  she  was  twice 
as  fair.  Her  skin  was  the  color  of  skimmed  milk, 
and  her  hair  like  red  bronze.  Conal's  heart  was 
lifted  up  at  the  sight  of  her,  and  then  cast  down  by 
the  thought  of  the  appearance  he  had  made  in  her 
eyes  on  this  day  and  the  night  before.  Now  and 
then  he  would  look  at  her  timidly,  and  seeing  her 
laugh  frankly  back  in  his  face  he  would  blush  fiery 
red,  and  within  himself  begin  to  make  high  resolves 
and  picture  how  before  another  day  was  past  he 
would  show  in  some  way  that  there  were  qualities 
in  him  that  had  not  yet  appeared. 

In  a  short  tune  the  high  earthen  wall  of  the  dun 
was  in  sight,  and  before  they  reached  it  Duffa  him- 
self came  out  to  meet  them.  He  embraced  Brian 
with  the  greatest  affection,  and  greeted  Mesgedra 
as  his  dignity  demanded.  Welcoming  them  all,  he 
had  baths  prepared,  and  entertained  them  with 
games,  wrestling,  racing,  and  running.  When  night 
drew  near  they  gathered  indoors  together.  Food 


26  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

and  drink  were  set  on  the  tables.  The  Ollave  and 
Ronan  the  bard  brought  out  their  harps.  They 
divided  that  night  into  three  parts :  one  for  feasting 
and  drinking;  one  for  the  telling  of  tales  and  the 
singing  of  songs;  the  third  for  rest  and  quiet  sleep. 
But  Duffa  the  Ollave  was  walking  by  himself  in  the 
oak  grove  until  dawn. 


CHAPTER  III 

DUFFA  GIVES  A  MESSAGE;    CONAL  ASKS 
FOR  A  PLACE 

Before  the  sun  had  well  risen  Mesgedra  and  Brian 
were  waiting  at  the  door  of  the  hall  to  thank  DufFa 
for  his  hospitality,  and  say  farewell  to  him.  The 
whole  dun  was  filled  with  the  noise  of  departure. 
Servants  were  running  about,  horses  stamping, 
sleepy  men  stumbling  to  their  chariots  with  their 
knuckles  in  their  eyes.  A  dozen  times  all  seemed 
ready  for  a  start  when  some  shout  for  a  lie-a-bed 
comrade  or  missing  necessary  gave  the  signal  for 
more  delay  and  greater  confusion.  Only  those  two, 
like  the  old  campaigners  they  were,  had  been  ready 
from  the  first,  as  if  they  had  slept  fully  clothed  in 
their  chariots.  They  looked  on  their  bustling  fellow 
travellers  with  good-humored  contempt,  and  would 
have  been  off  without  ceremony  had  not  the  druid 
delayed  his  coming. 

Conal  had  been  up  first  of  all  and,  though  he  was 
slow  appearing,  it  was  only  that  he  took  twice  as 
much  pains  with  his  horses  as  he  had  even  the  morn- 
ing before,  and  being  without  attendants,  had  all 
the  work  to  do  himself,  for  he  would  not  trust  his 
precious  steeds  to  the  hands  of  Duffa's  slaves.  He 

27 


28  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

drove  out  at  last,  proudly  conscious  of  his  knightly 
appearance,  and  took  his  place  at  Mesgedra's  side, 
and  not  far  from  the  canopied  chariots  in  which 
the  women  of  Mesgedra's  party  were  sitting.  He 
felt  at  his  best,  except  for  a  little  stiffness  of  the 
jaw,  and  the  knowledge  that  the  side  of  his  face 
was  disfigured  by  a  purple  lump  of  the  size  of  a 
walnut,  which  put  him  to  the  pains  of  keeping  that 
cheek  turned  away  as  much  as  possible. 
.  "Where  can  the  Ollave  be?"  asked  Brian  impa- 
tiently. "When  a  man  has  guests  he  has  guests, 
and  it  is  to  be  expected  that  he  will  show  himself 
to  them  at  parting,  and  not  let  them  take  them- 
selves off  like  crows  that  have  been  stealing  corn." 

"He  is  an  old  man,"  said  Mesgedra.  "Perhaps 
he  drank  too  much  mead  in  encouraging  us  to  make 
free  with  it,  and  is  sleeping  so  soundly  after  it  that 
the  servants  dare  not  rouse  him  for  fear  of  his 
anger." 

"  Call  one  of  them,  then,  and  ask  whether  he  sleeps 
or  not." 

"But  is  not  that  he  coming  now?"  cried  Conal, 
pointing. 

In  fact,  looking  out  through  the  gate,  they  could 
see  the  druid  approaching,  walking  slowly  between 
the  thin  trees,  with  his  face  raised  to  the  east  so 
that  he  seemed  to  stare  straight  into  the  rising  sun. 
They  got  down  out  of  their  chariots,  and  Brian  and 
Mesgedra  went  forward  to  meet  him,  but  he  walked 
past  as  if  he  did  not  see  them,  and  coming  up  to 
Conal,  put  his  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder,  and 


DUFFA  GIVES  A  MESSAGE  29 

spoke  in  a  low,  earnest  voice  that  made  his  words 
seem  to  carry  some  mysterious  authority. 

"When  you  come  to  the  High  King  greet  him 
well  for  me." 

"I  would  carry  your  greeting  gladly,"  answered 
Conal  hesitantly,  "but  I  go  only  to  Tailtenn,  and 
it  is  not  likely,  from  what  they  say,  that  I  will  see 
Dathi  there." 

"That  is  true,"  put  in  Brian,  "but  I  am  on  my 
way  to  join  the  High  King,  and  I  will  do  your  errand 
for  you." 

"There  is  a  man  in  a  distant  city,"  went  on  the 
druid  without  noticing  the  interruption.  "You  will 
know  him  by  his  shaven  head,  by  his  cloak  which 
is  pierced  for  his  head  to  pass  through,  by  his  crook- 
headed  staff.  Tell  him  that  the  people  who  dwell 
by  the  wood  of  Focluth  bid  him  come  again  and 
walk  with  them." 

"But  where  is  that  city,  and  what  is  its  name?" 
asked  Conal,  stepping  back  a  pace.  Duffa's  white 
face  and  wide-open,  expressionless  eyes,  fixed  so 
steadily  on  the  distant  sky,  struck  him  with  dread. 
All  the  tales  he  had  ever  heard  of  the  mysteries  of 
the  druids  came  crowding  into  his  mind;  tales  of 
prophecies  and  visions,  of  enchantments  and  met- 
amorphoses, of  cruel  old  rites,  remembered  still  in 
fable,  of  madness  put  upon  men  by  the  throwing  of 
a  wisp  of  straw.  He  would  have  liked  to  have 
looked  about  him  to  draw  courage  from  the  pres- 
ence of  the  others,  but  he  could  not  take  his  eyes 
from  the  Ollave's  face.  Duffa  did  not  answer,  but 


30  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

his  exaltation  seemed  slowly  to  pass  from  him. 
His  hand  fell  to  his  side,  and  the  color  returned  to 
his  face.  When  he  spoke  again  it  was  briefly  and 
imperiously,  looking  straight  at  Conal. 

"For  yourself,  avoid  quarrels  with  your  kins- 
folk," and  turning  he  walked  directly  into  the 
house,  and  the  bronze-studded  door  swung  to  after 
him. 

They  passed  out  of  the  gate  in  silence.  When, 
after  a  little,  Conal  would  have  spoken  of  the  druid's 
strange  message,  hoping  to  be  encouraged  to  dismiss 
it  as  idle  words,  the  others  avoided  discussing  it. 
Ronan  looked  straight  before  him  and  frowned  for- 
biddingly, and  Brian  would  only  reply  with  mutter- 
ings  of  "Tush!"  and  other  vague  noises. 

"Best  let  such  things  be  and  forget  them,"  said 
Mesgedra  bluntly.  "Whether  they  are  prophecy  or 
not,  they  are  dressed  in  mysterious  words,  and  it 
is  useless  or  worse  for  any  one  not  learned  in  old 
lore  or  magic  rhymes  to  attempt  to  explain  them. 
Time  will  show.  For  the  present  let  it  pass,  and 
if  Ronan  will  shorten  the  road  for  us  with  a  cheerful 
song,  it  will  please  me  better  than  talking  of  it." 

Ronan  was  glad  to  forget  the  druid's  words,  and 
glad  too  of  the  chance  to  display  the  power  of  his 
own  art  over  men's  minds.  There  was  not  a  beau- 
tiful lament  or  an  heroic  tale  which  he  did  not  have 
at  his  tongue's  end,  and  he  delighted  their  ears 
with  song  and  story  until  their  awe  faded,  and  they 
recovered  the  gay  spirit  suited  to  such  a  journey. 

After  they  had  gone  on  for  an  hour  they  began  to 


DUFFA  GIVES  A  MESSAGE  31 

meet  other  wayfarers  more  and  more  frequently. 
Every  lane  and  horse-track  gave  its  group  or  two, 
until  the  road  was  full,  and  they  became,  as  it  were, 
part  of  a  procession  of  chariots,  bright  with  bronze 
and  gilding  and  feathered  canopies.  The  clatter  of 
tongues,  the  stamp  of  hoofs,  and  the  scream  of 
creaking  axles  became  deafening.  The  crowd  moved 
slowly,  stopping  frequently  and  surging  to  and  fro, 
and  it  needed  skill  and  patience  to  avoid  accident, 
but  every  one  was  in  good  humor,  and  every  delay 
and  discomfort  was  taken  with  a  jest  as  was  becom- 
ing in  those  who  travelled  for  pleasure. 

Presently  Conal  found  his  chariot  pressing  close 
on  the  one  which  carried  his  girlish  rescuer,  and  a 
longer  stop  than  usual  gave  him  the  chance  of  speak- 
ing to  her,  which  he  had  desired  but  had  not  had 
enough  address  to  bring  about  himself.  After  re- 
garding her  sidewise  for  a  little  he  summoned  cour- 
age and  made  some  remark  about  the  press  of  peo- 
ple and  the  slowness  of  their  travel. 

"It  is  wonderful  to  be  among  so  many  people," 
replied  the  girl  simply.  "I  have  never  seen  such  a 
number  together  before,  though  many  folk  gather 
at  the  bruden  at  times." 

"These  are  only  a  few  of  those  who  will  be  at 
Tailtenn.  That  will  be  a  sight  for  you  to  remember. 
You  will  not  be  able  to  see  that  there  are  earth  and 
grass  there  from  the  number  of  men  and  women, 
besides  the  horses  and  chariots  without  end." 

"I  am  impatient  to  see  it !  You,  no  doubt,  have 
been  there  often  before,  and  have  seen  many  such 


32  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

sights,  but  I  have  lived  in  seclusion."  She  spoke 
demurely,  looking  at  him  under  her  lashes. 

Conal  blushed  and  hesitated. 

"To  be  truthful,"  he  said,  "I  too  have  lived  until 
now  in  fosterage,  in  a  rath  far  from  such  scenes  as 
this,  where  not  even  travellers  passed.  You,  at 
Mesgedra's  bruden,  have  seen  more  of  life  than  I, 
and  indeed  I  envy  you  what  you  have  seen  there, 
though  now  I  am  going  out  in  the  world  to  see  for 
myself." 

"I  have  seen  little  enough,"  said  the  girl,  "for  it 
would  be  unbecoming  for  me  to  be  about  where 
guests  are  so  frequent.  Often  when  I  have  watched 
beautiful  queens  and  handsome  young  lords  pass 
in  and  out  I  have  wondered  who  they  were,  and 
where  they  were  going,  and  have  wished  that  I, 
too,  were  a  traveller,  journeying  to  Cruachan  or  Ard- 
Macha.  But,  sigh  as  I  will,  I  must  stay  at  home, 
for  it  is  not  for  girls  to  travel.  Mesgedra  did  not 
even  want  to  bring  me  with  him  this  time,  but  I 
threatened  him  and  he  thought  better  of  it." 

"And  what  did  you  threaten  him  with?" 

"First  I  told  him  I  would  run  away,  but  he 
laughed;  so  then  I  threatened  to  cry,  and  that  set- 
tled it.  But  I  think  he  would  have  brought  me  any- 
how. He  puffs  his  cheeks  and  blows  through  his 
beard  very  frightfully,  but  at  last  he  says:  'Well,  if 
you  must!  A  man  must  have  peace  in  his  house'; 
so  I  get  what  I  wish." 

She  tossed  back  her  plaited  hair  and  laughed 
merrily. 


DUFFA  GIVES  A  MESSAGE  33 

"I  can  well  believe  that  before  you  Mesgedra  is 
like  Diarmuid  o  Duibne,  who  had  geasa  on  him 
never  to  refuse  anything  to  a  woman." 

"That  is  his  nature,"  replied  the  girl,  looking 
back  at  the  old  man  tenderly.  "He  is  kindness  it- 
self to^all  young  people,  and  to  me,  of  course,  above 
all.  You  would  not  believe  he  was  a  flame  of  fire 
to  his  enemies." 

"It  can  easily  be  seen  that  he  is  a  man  of  a  kindly 
nature,  but  I  believe  you  when  you  say  he  has  an- 
other side  to  show.  When  we  first  met  I  disputed 
with  him  about  a  certain  joint  of  meat,  and  though 
he  exercised  restraint,  he  looked  at  me  with  the 
eyes  of  a  fierce  old  wolf-dog." 

"Then  you  were  the  pert  boy  who  claimed  his 
portion.  But  wolfhounds  even  can  be  soothed  by 
speaking  to  them  gently." 

"Who  should  know  that  better  than  I?  It  is  no 
small  return  I  owe  you  for  saving  me." 

"  Better  not  to  recall  that.  It  should  not  be  known 
of  a  young  champion  that  he  owes  his  good  looks 
to  a  woman's  help.  Ronan  Dhu  may  overhear  you 
and  make  rhymes  to  amuse  his  friends." 

"I  am  ashamed  of  having  spoken  so.  After  all, 
I  am  too  small  game  for  Ronan,  and  if  he  wished  to 
satirize  me  he  could  find  enough  to  amuse  them  in 
the  figure  I  made  claiming  the  hero's  portion,  or 
in  my  fight  with  Brian  at  the  ford." 

"That  is  talking  sensibly,  and  I  am  glad  you  have 
come  to  see  it  in  that  way." 

Conal  perhaps  had  expected  a  somewhat  differ- 


34  THE  PORTION  OF  A   CHAMPION 

ent  answer.  He  began  to  speak  of  himself  belittlingly 
as  if  hoping  she  would  not  agree  with  him. 

"No  doubt  a  man  such  as  I,  fresh  from  country 
places,  falling  from  one  difficulty  into  another,  seems 
ridiculous  in  your  eyes  compared  with  the  brave 
lords  you  spoke  of  who  come  and  go  at  the  bruden." 

"  It  would  be  useless  to  say  that  you  seemed  heroic 
rolling  on  the  ground  with  Bran,  or  rubbing  your 
face  from  Brian's  blow,  but  you  are  young  and  can- 
not expect  that  everything  will  turn  to  your  glory. 
You  should  be  proud  at  having  met  Brian  with  the 
spear  at  all  rather  than  ashamed  at  being  defeated 
by  him.  As  for  your  coming  fresh  from  quiet 
places,  have  I  not  told  you  that  I  am  in  the  same 
case  ?  We  should  rather  share  the  pleasure  of  these 
new  sights  than  cast  our  inexperience  up  at  one 
another." 

"There  is  comfort  in  what  you  say,  and  if  you  are 
willing,  let  us  see  these  sights  together.  I  will  put 
you  under  bonds  to  save  the  place  at  your  side  for 
me  throughout  the  fair,  and  wherever  we  travel  in 
company." 

"We  will  not  travel  in  company  long,  I  fear, 
because  when  the  fair  is  over  you  will  go  your  way, 
and  we  ours,"  said  the  girl  with  a  little  mournful 
air  that  was  the  perfection  of  artifice. 

"How  do  you  know  our  ways  may  not  be  the 
same?  Indeed,  I  am  minded  to  place  myself  under 
Mesgedra  as  his  man  and  travel  in  his  train  for  the 
pleasure  of  being  with  you." 

"  How  could  that  be  ?    Your  way  is  already  chosen 


DUFFA  GIVES  A  MESSAGE  35 

for  you.  Did  you  not  hear  the  druid  say  that  you 
would  come  to  far  countries  and  speak  with  men  of 
strange  appearance  ?  It  is  the  way  of  men  to  go  far 
off  and  live  their  lives,  while  women  stay  at  home 
and  spin  flax — how  I  hate  the  name  of  linen !" 

She  dropped  her  head  and  sighed  delicately  so 
that  Conal  immediately  began  to  feel  pity  for  her, 
because  they  would  part  so  soon  and  she  would  see 
him  no  more. 

"It  is  true,  travelling  is  more  suitable  for  men 
than  for  women,"  he  said  pompously,  "and  no  doubt 
I  must  go  where  my  fate  and  fame  lead  me.  But  all 
the  same  we  will  meet  again,  for  I  will  return  to 
Bruden  Mesgedra  in  time  and  tell  you  of  the  places 
I  have  seen  and  the  deeds  I  have  done." 

"I  prefer  to  do  my  travelling  for  myself.  I  have 
not  a  flax-spinning  nature,  though  it  would  be  ask- 
ing too  much  of  your  country-bred  youth  to  expect 
you  to  see  that  unaided.  Perhaps  when  you  come 
back  from  following  your  fame  and  fortune  you  will 
find  I  have  been  as  far  afield  as  yourself." 

"You  are  certainly  the  strangest  girl  I  have  ever 
seen,"  said  Conal  resentfully.  "You  say  one  thing 
in  one  breath  and  another  in  the  next.  I  made  no 
secret  of  my  bringing  up,  and  I  do  not  see  why  you 
fling  it  in  my  face  so  suddenly." 

"It  is  not  that  I  am  strange,  but  that  you  are 
stupid,"  answered  the  girl  impatiently.  "You  are 
so  smug  and  confident  that  you  will  be  the  one  to 
have  tales  to  tell,,  while  I  sit  open-eyed.  Why 
should  I  not  have  adventures  of  my  own?" 


36  THE  PORTION  OF  A   CHAMPION 

"It  is  not  my  fault  if  you  do  not  like  to  be  taken 
at  your  word,"  protested  Conal.  "You  said  your- 
self it  was  proper  for  women  to  stay  in  their  own 
houses." 

"I  said  that  it  was  the  lot  of  most  women,  not 
that  I  meant  to  do  so.  No,  indeed !  I  am  going  on 
my  travels  as  well  as  you." 

"It  is  your  own  fault  if  I  offended  you,  then,  for 
you  could  have  said  as  much  in  the  first  place," 
Conal  grumbled,  his  respect  for  her  increased 
mightily,  none  the  less,  and  his  curiosity  aroused  as 
well.  "You  are  going  on,  then,  when  the  fair  is 
done?  Perhaps  we  will  journey  together  after  all." 

"Never  mind.  We  will  see.  At  least  I  know 
where  I  am  going,  while  you  must  wait  for  fate  and 
fame  to  show  the  way." 

"You  will  never  have  done  teasing,"  said  Conal, 
biting  his  lip.  "Very  well,  but  do  not  be  surprised 
if  I  give  you  as  good  as  you  send  when  I  have  the 
chance." 

"Remember  what  the  druid  said,"  cried  the  girl 
gayly:  "'Beware  of  quarrelling  with  your  kinsfolk.' 
We  are  of  the  same  blood,  so  mind  how  you  speak  to 
me." 

"You  are  more  likely  of  the  blood  of  the  Shee 
than  of  mine — you  have  the  looks  of  their  daughters 
and  something  of  their  temper  as  well.  But  do  you 
know  I  have  never  even  asked  your  name?" 

"It  is  Etain,  and  I  am  of  the  blood  of  the  Shee, 
as  the  name  witnesses." 

"Of  course  it  is  common  for  kingly  families  to  be 


DUFFA  GIVES  A  MESSAGE  37 

allied  with  them,  as  Cucullin  was,  and  so  many 
others,  but  how  are  we  related?" 

"They  say  that  you  are  of  the  Hy  Fiacra,  and 
my  mother  was  also  of  that  race.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  Lugaid  the  Sleepless,  who  went  to 
Alban  with  Niall  and  settled  there." 

"That  is  the  same  clan  but  a  different  family. 
There  are  three  tuaths  of  the  descendants  of  Fiacra : 
one  in  Ulster,  one  in  Leinster,  and  one  in  Alban; 
but  I  am  of  the  Ulster  branch,  which  is  the  chief 
one." 

"That  is  disputed,  I  think." 

"How  disputed?"  cried  Conal,  bristling. 

"I  have  heard  it  said — but  I  know  nothing  of 
such  things.  Leave  it  to  the  genealogists." 

By  degrees  they  had  been  moving  forward  with 
the  crowd,  and  now  they  came  to  where  a  broad 
plain  spread  out  on  both  sides  of  the  road,  covered 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  with  slight  buildings 
of  every  sort,  arranged  regularly  to  form  streets, 
with  open  spaces  at  intervals.  The  din  was  insup- 
portable, for  every  sort  of  activity  was  in  full  swing 
at  the  same  tune. 

Mesgedra,  coming  up,  advised  Conal  to  seek  quar- 
ters while  there  was  tune,  as  he  had  already  ar- 
ranged for  the  shelter  of  his  own  party  hi  a  place 
where  no  more  would  be  received. 

They  settled  upon  a  place  of  meeting  for  the  next 
day  and  separated.  Conal  wanted  desperately  to 
snatch  a  last  word  with  Etain,  but  he  hung  back 
until  the  opportunity  was  gone.  Only,  as  she  drove 


38  THE  PORTION  OF  A   CHAMPION 

past  him,  she  leaned  over  the  edge  of  the  chariot 
until  her  lips  almost  touched  his  ear. 

"If  you  wish  it,  I  will  save  the  place  for  you," 
she  whispered,  and  went  on  laughing  and  shaking 
her  braids,  while  Conal  grew  red  as  fire  and  hated 
himself  bitterly  for  doing  so. 

He  watched  her  out  of  sight  and  then  set  out  to 
look  for  lodgings  and  to  get  his  first  view  of  the  fair. 


CHAPTER  IV 
GIFT  FOR  GIFT 

A  place  at  her  side  for  the  length  of  the  fair— 
whether  Etain  meant  more  when  she  said  it  than 
she  afterward  found  it  convenient  to  remember, 
or  whether,  as  girls  will,  she  had  made  the  promise 
with  no  intention  of  keeping  it,  merely  for  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  him  blush  and  stammer,  Conal 
found  fewer  chances  of  being  with  her  than  he  had 
expected. 

True,  every  day  he  would  meet  Mesgedra's  party 
and  go  with  them  to  whatever  sport  or  ceremony 
the  day  offered.  There  were  even  moments  when, 
other  eyes  being  turned  elsewhere,  he  could  whisper 
stumbling,  daring  speeches  to  be  met  with  flashing 
eyes  and  frivolous  answers.  But  for  the  most  part 
she  was  so  ringed  about  by  the  other  maidens  of 
Mesgedra's  house,  and  so  shepherded  by  Mesgedra's 
staid  and  elderly  sister,  that  Conal,  too  self-conscious 
to  air  his  preferences  before  the  world,  kept  in  the 
background  or  walked  with  the  men. 

Even  so  he  did  not  escape  jesting,  and  other  men 
were  not  so  backward  but  would  venture  among 
the  women  to  walk  by  her  side.  This,  to  be  sure, 
made  Conal  grind  his  teeth,  as  did  also  her  habit, 
when  they  were  watching  the  races  at  the  field  of 

39 


40  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

games,  of  praising  in  extravagant  terms  the  looks, 
the  figure,  and  the  bearing  of  each  successful  chari- 
oteer. She  would  call  upon  Conal  to  testify  to  these 
excellences,  and  quarrel  with  him  when  he  grew 
sulkily  critical  about  them,  as  it  must  be  confessed 
he  usually  did. 

He  took  this  so  much  to  heart  that,  from  very 
jealousy,  he  was  forced  to  grease  his  axles,  a  thing 
which  he  was  very  loath  to  do,  spoiling  as  it  did  the 
fashionable  creaking  of  the  wheels,  and  drive  a  race 
or  two  himself. 

As  his  driving  was  thoroughly  finished,  and  his 
horses  really  unmatched,  he  succeeded  in  giving  a 
good  account  of  himself  in  the  first  race  and  won 
the  second. 

Etain  for  once  forgot  her  mockery  and,  glowing 
with  excitement,  cheered  him  on  across  the  line  and 
spoke  warm  words  of  praise  and  congratulation, 
making  him  blush,  and  strut,  and  feel  completely 
happy  until  she  changed  front  again,  a  short  half- 
hour  after,  and  became  more  provoking  than  ever 
and  less  tolerant  of  his  boyish  attempts  at  a  senti- 
mental understanding.  , 

As  was  to  be  expected,  the  fair  provided  every 
sort  of  amusement,  from  the  drolleries  of  jesters  and 
jugglers  to  the  lyrical  contests  of  the  bards.  The 
passing  crowd  was  a  veritable  levy  of  all  ranks  and 
classes.  There  were  kings  there  and  cunning  crafts- 
men, merchants  from  Gaul,  Iberia,  and  the  Islands, 
tradesmen  with  their  trades,  ollaves  of  the  three 
learned  professions,  and  private  folk  of  every  degree. 


GIFT  FOR  GIFT  41 

The  High  King  himself  appeared  for  an  hour 
one  day,  driving  up  furiously  with  a  crowd  of  guards 
and  officers.  He  met  the  judges  and  historians, 
went  through  the  formality  of  confirming  some 
laws  and  customs,  and  whirled  off  again,  through 
the  dust  clouds,  for  Tara  or  Inver  Colptha  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Boyne,  for  preparations  for  his  expedi- 
tion were  going  rapidly  forward  in  both  of  these 
places. 

As  for  the  expedition,  every  one  talked  of  it. 
Hundreds  of  seasoned  soldiers  passed  through  the 
fair  every  day  on  their  way  to  the  port.  Some- 
tunes,  with  chief  at  head  and  banners  displayed,  the 
manhood  of  some  mountain  clan  came  by  in  full 
strength,  going  to  join  the  High  King  in  a  body, 
although  no  general  call  had  been  made  on  the 
provinces. 

Half  the  grizzled  veterans  in  Eirinn  came  seeking 
out  Brian,  buried  their  faces  in  his  bushy  beard, 
and  dragged  him  off  to  bear  them  company  in  a 
last  revel.  Then  would  follow  a  night  of  wild 
merry-making,  breaking  up  with  shouting  groups 
parading  the  streets,  cheering  the  most  renowned 
warriors,  and  overturning  booths,  until  some  mag- 
nate bought  them  off  with  a  supper  or  some  vener- 
able brehon  reproved  them  with  stinging  words  and 
sent  them  away  abashed. 

Mesgedra  also  was  in  great  demand  for  evening 
gatherings.  He  was  known  and  beloved  by  every 
man  of  note  in  the  five  kingdoms,  and  elevated  in 
men's  eyes  by  his  present  dignity  and  past  exploits. 


42  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

Although  not  inclined  to  boisterous  mirth,  he  was  a 
sociable  companion  and  a  hearty  man  at  the  cups, 
and  his  sagacity  was  respected  by  even  the  oldest. 
His  nights  were  spent  at  the  tables  of  great  lords, 
where  matters  of  state  were  discussed  in  half -finished 
sentences,  and  whole  volumes  of  meaning  were 
conveyed  in  a  compressed  lip  or  a  sober  nod.  The 
most  powerful  chiefs  bent  eagerly  for  his  opinion 
on  questions  of  tribute  and  defiance  between  prov- 
inces, or  war  and  peace  between  nations. 

Sometimes  Conal  accompanied  one,  sometimes 
the  other,  for  both  made  him  free  of  their  company. 
He  learned  much  of  life  in  those  days.  He  became 
able  to  distinguish  intelligently  between  the  lighter 
and  more  delicately  flavored  wine  of  Iberia,  and  the 
heavier,  darker  product  of  Gaul,  which  is  so  much 
improved  by  the  addition  of  sea  water.  He  listened 
while  acknowledged  masters  discussed  the  military 
art  and  wrangled  over  this  or  that  nice  point  of 
leadership.  The  High  King's  own  counsellors  gave 
him  his  first  insight  into  the  confused  wisdom  of 
politics  and  commerce.  Mesgedra  and  his  fellows 
chatted  mysteriously  of  missions  to  the  Picts,  of 
treaties  with  the  Saxon,  and  of  the  far-off  activities 
of  him  whom  they  called  King  of  All  the  World 
("Eirinn  excepted,"  they  punctiliously  added,  with 
honorable  pride).  All  this  Conal  drank  in  with 
interest. 

His  acquaintanceship  grew  also,  and  he  got  in  the 
way  of  rising  at  dawn  to  course  hounds  hi  the  com- 
pany of  men  of  his  own  age,  among  whom  his  skill 


GIFT  FOR  GIFT  43 

in  sports  and  his  superb  horses  gave  him  a  pleasura- 
ble ascendancy. 

His  days  passed  pleasantly,  and  he  grew  insen- 
sibly more  mature. 

One  indication  of  the  passing  of  his  first  boyish 
rawness  was  that  it  became  more  difficult  for  Etain 
to  put  him  to  confusion  with  her  raillery.  One  day, 
when  they  were  standing  in  the  square  watching 
the  crowds  of  people  of  the  poorer  sort  who  had 
gathered  there  for  the  making  of  marriages,  she 
began  to  tease  him  about  a  certain  dark  beauty 
who  she  declared  was  waiting  for  Conal  to  claim 
her.  She  urged  him  to  send  Mesgedra  to  the  girl's 
mother  to  arrange  the  match,  and  made  much  sport 
of  him  altogether.  Conal  only  looked  at  her  steadily 
and  said: 

"Before  the  marrying  is  over  I  will  have  some- 
thing to  say  to  Mesgedra,  but  not  that,  as  you 
know." 

Etain  would  have  been  well  pleased  could  she 
have  given  him  a  pert  answer,  but  suddenly  found 
herself  marking  circles  in  the  sand  with  her  toe,  un- 
able to  meet  his  eye.  She  stalked  away  in  great 
disgust  with  herself  and  hoping  he  had  not  noticed 
her  confusion,  but  at  the  same  time  conscious  of  a 
certain  pleasant  breathlessness  and  an  altogether 
unusual  timidity.  Conal  perhaps  noticed  nothing; 
at  any  rate,  he  let  her  go  without  another  word. 

The  last  day  of  the  fair  approached.  Brian  had 
gone  on  some  days  before  with  one  of  the  last 
parties  of  warriors.  Numbers  of  people  left  Tail- 


44  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

term  daily,  but  many  waited  for  the  great  feast 
which  most  of  those  of  any  rank  expected  to  at- 
tend. 

Mesgedra  advised  Conal  to  see  the  herald  in  ad- 
vance and  tell  him  his  station  and  family,  so  that 
he  might  be  given  a  good  place.  He  did  so,  and 
left  his  shield  to  secure  his  seat.  On  the  morning 
of  the  feast  they  strolled  to  the  Hall  of  the  Mead- 
drinking  to  see  what  arrangements  had  been  made 
and  what  places  had  been  given  them. 

The  hall,  though  not  intended  to  stand  perma- 
nently, was  commodious  and  handsome.  It  had 
numerous  doors  on  both  sides,  and  the  tables  and 
seats  were  arranged  along  the  walls,  so  that  one  side 
was  free  for  serving  and  no  man  faced  his  neighbor. 
Mesgedra's  shield  was  hung  behind  a  bench  near 
the  head  of  the  table  in  the  position  to  which  his 
office  entitled  him.  Ronan  Dhu  and  Eoghan,  the 
bald  brehon,  found  themselves  well  placed;  but 
Conal  looked  a  long  time  for  his  place,  to  discover 
his  shield  hung  in  a  poor  situation,  among  those  of 
flaiths  and  aires  indeed,  but  men  of  little  conse- 
quence. 

"See  here,  Mesgedra,  where  they  have  put  me!" 
he  fumed.  "This  is  small  honor  they  have  done  to 
the  clan  of  Fiacra." 

"It  is  well  we  came  here  beforehand,"  sympathized 
Ronan;  "and  it  is  a  shame  on  the  shanachie  who 
arranged  the  shields  that  such  an  affront  should  be 
put  on  your  noble  house." 

"It  was  not  well  done,"  said  the  brehon,  "and  it 


GIFT  FOR  GIFT  45 

is  my  advice  that  you  call  on  the  law  against  him. 
It  is  a  serious  thing  to  deprive  a  man  of  rank  and 
place,  as  is  shown  by  the  verse: 

*  The  duties  of  a  shanachie — it  is  not  hard  to  tell  them. 
To  be  learned  and  skilled  in  the  rights  of  kings; 
To  give  each  man  his  rightful  place, 
Knowing  the  privileges  of  every  rank.' 

"It  is  plain  that  this  herald  cannot  be  skilled  as 
he  should  be,  and  you  are  justified  in  asking  pay- 
ment for  your  injury." 

"Pestilence  swallow  you  and  your  payment," 
growled  Mesgedra.  "Do  you  think  the  boy  will 
trade  his  nobility  for  a  cow?  I  believe  there  is  a 
mistake  here  that  can  be  set  right  in  a  word  to  the 
herald.  And  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  here  he  comes." 

He  advanced  against  the  herald  and,  shaking  his 
finger  under  his  nose,  stormed  at  him: 

"This  was  a  fool's  blunder,  shanachie.  You  have 
put  this  lad  among  men  of  no  account,  offending  his 
clan  and  himself,  after  he  had  told  you  his  name 
and  descent." 

"Who  is  he?"  returned  the  shanachie  impatiently. 
"I  have  had  a  hundred  complaints  this  morning 
alone,  and  I  cannot  be  expected  to  remember  every 
flaith  who  comes  to  me  with  stories  of  his  pedigree. 
In  the  name  of  Bel!  Is  modesty  dying  out  alto- 
gether that  no  one  is  satisfied  with  the  place  that 
is  given  him?  What  is  the  name  and  descent  you 
speak  of  so  importantly?" 

"I  am  Conal,  son  of  Cathbar,  who  is  called  Shan- 


46  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

leh,  of  the  tribe  of  Fiacra;  a  free  tribe  with  no 
overlord  except  the  King  of  Ulster,  and  I  am  of 
his  blood  and  king-material  in  my  own  territory." 

"And  your  rank,  and  your  father's?" 

"A  flaith  myself,  and  Cathbar  a  high  aire,  for- 
merly the  tanist." 

"And  your  shield  is  among  the  shields  of  flaiths 
and  aires.  What  more  would  you  have?" 

"It  is  not  for  my  rank  that  I  ask  more,  but  as  the 
representative  of  Fiacra's  house,  which  makes  it 
right  for  me  to  sit  next  after  the  kings  of  tuaths, 
being  king-material  of  a  tuath  myself." 

"All  of  which,"  said  the  brehon  sharply,  "you 
should  have  known  without  asking,  for  what  says 
the  verse  ? 

'The  duties  of  a  shanachie — it  is  not  hard  to  tell  them. 
To  be  learned ' " 

"  Enough ! "  said  the  shanachie.  "  I  know  the  duties 
of  my  office  well  enough  without  being  wearied  with 
ranns  and  old  verses;  as  for  the  son  of  Cathbar,  he 
would  be  justly  entitled  to  the  place  he  claims  but 
that  Firbis,  the  son  of  Heremon,  of  the  Leinster 
branch  of  the  Clan  Fiacra,  is  here,  and  being  of 
closer  kinship  to  Fiacra,  and  of  a  family  from 
whom  Cathbar's  ancestors  have  taken  gifts,  he  has 
claimed  and  been  given  the  place.  Here  is  his 
shield." 

"By  the  oath  of  my  people!"  exclaimed  Conal. 
"If  any  Leinsterman  claims  nearer  descent  from 
Fiacra  than  myself  he  is  a  foul  liar,  and  if  Firbis 


GIFT  FOR  GIFT  47 

says  his  fathers  have  given  gifts  to  mine,  except  it 
may  be  as  friends  give  them,  he  shall  answer  for 
it.  The  Hy  Fiacra  of  Leinster  is  a  mere  offshoot, 
their  blood  tainted  with  the  blood  of  Firbolgs  and 
foreigners,  and  I  will  prove  it  on  his  skin." 

"Peace,  peace,  boy ! "  whispered  Mesgedra.  " Re- 
member the  dignity  of  the  herald.  That  Firbis  is  a 
plotter  like  all  Leinstermen.  I  know  him  well. 
But  do  not  storm  and  bluster.  We  will  appeal  to 
the  king's  shanachies  who  will  surely  do  you  justice." 

"If  what  you  say  is  true  it  will  be  easy  to  show 
it,"  the  shanachie  said.  "And  there  are  several 
reverend  men  of  my  profession  outside  who  are 
here  to  decide  just  such  questions.  It  is  better  that 
they  should  give  judgment  than  I." 

They  followed  him  to  a  tree  near  by,  under  which 
two  or  three  aged  men  were  sitting  with  their  heads 
together.  The  herald  addressed  them  respectfully. 

"Learned  men,  a  dispute  concerning  the  descent 
of  Conal,  son  of  Cathbar  Shanleh,  and  Firbis  the 
son  of  Heremon,  both  of  Hy  Fiacra." 

"Are  both  here  present?"  asked  the  oldest,  turn- 
ing his  head  slightly. 

Ronan  the  bard  pushed  forward. 

"Conal  is  here,"  he  explained  confidently,  "and 
there  is  no  need  of  the  other's  presence.  We  merely 
ask  that  right  be  done,  and  a  word  will  serve  as  well 
as  an  hour's  talk." 

"Let  Firbis  be  summoned,"  said  the  old  man, 
going  back  to  his  talk  with  his  fellows. 

Word  was  sent  out  through  the  fair,  and  after 


48  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

some  delay  a  crier  appeared  bringing  the  Leinsterman 
with  him. 

Firbis  was  a  dark,  short  man  with  thin  lips  and  a 
brush  of  black  hair  shooting  up  almost  from  his  eye- 
brows. Turning  his  head  from  side  to  side  with  a 
challenging  air,  as  if  he  expected  controversy  and 
was  prepared  to  welcome  it,  he  came  striding  up 
to  the  group  under  the  tree,  and  demanded  impa- 
tiently why  he  had  been  sent  for. 

"One  is  here  who  claims  your  seat,"  the  shanachie 
told  him,  "a  young  flaith  from  Ulster." 

"That  is  fine  news  indeed,"  the  Leinsterman  said 
with  ready  hostility.  "And  what  reason  does  the 
young  flaith  give  for  wanting  my  seat  besides  that 
he  does  not  like  his  own?" 

"He  claims  the  headship  of  the  clan  of  Fiacra 
for  his  family,  and  the  seat  as  its  representative  for 
himself." 

"I  have  heard  of  such  a  claim  before,"  Firbis 
said  with  a  bitter  look,  but  without  any  appearance 
of  concern.  "That  will  be  one  of  Cathbar's  scrubs, 
I  suppose.  I  am  satisfied  to  have  the  question  set- 
tled now  once  for  all.  Bring  him  out  with  his 
claim!" 

He  turned  sharply  and  saw  Mesgedra. 

"Ho!"  he  cried  quickly.  "I  thought  that  no 
Ulsterman  would  have  had  the  impudence  to  put 
forward  that  demand  of  himself.  I  see  how  it  is 
now.  Here  is  the  High  King's  kitchen  boy,  and  I 
have  no  doubt  that  he  is  the  fat  fool  who  has  encour- 
aged this  boy  to  insult  me." 


GIFT  FOR  GIFT  49 

"What  way  is  that  to  talk  of  the  noble  Mes- 
gedra?"  cried  Ronan  Dhu.  "If  it  were  not  for  the 
peace  of  the  fair,  I  would  drive  my  spear  into 
your  gullet." 

"We  will  speak  of  that  later,"  Mesgedra  said 
calmly.  "Meantime  the  question  is  of  the  boy's 
rights."" 

"I  will  give  him  his  belly  full  of  his  rights," 
snapped  Firbis.  "He  knows,  and  so  do  you,  that 
his  family  and  he  are  as  much  beneath  mine  as  pike 
is  beneath  salmon.  If  they  are  really  descended 
from  Fiacra  at  all,  then  they  are  of  my  blood,  and 
have  that  much  on  which  to  pride  themselves — but 
as  for  rights  and  rank,  my  charioteer  has  as  much 
and  more  than  they.  They  are  pigs  of  Ulster,  noth- 
ing more." 

"Enough  talk,"  said  Ronan  sharply,  for  he  saw 
that  Conal's  temper  was  stirred  beyond  enduring. 
"Prove  your  right  or  move  your  shield.  Your  voice 
is  unpleasant.  It  annoys  me." 

"My  right  is  already  proven,  and  my  shield 
placed,"  answered  Firbis.  "Let  him  move  it  who 
can." 

The  old  shanachie  turned  his  head  again. 

"Are  both  claimants  present  now?" 

"Both,"  Eoghan  said,  pushing  himself  to  the  front. 
"And  I  am  here  also,  Eoghan  the  brehon — my  name 
is  not  unknown,  I  think.  My  help  is  at  your  ser- 
vice in  any  point  touching  the  law.  Not  that  a 
learned  man  like  you  is  not  versed  in  the  laws,  just 
as  I  dabble  a  little  in  genealogy  myself;  but  a  man 


50  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

can  do  but  one  thing  at  a  time.  While  you  have 
learned  pedigrees  I  have  learned  precedents.  Each 
to  his  trade.  One  for  scent,  the  other  for  speed,  as 
the  man  said  when  he  bred  the  deerhound  to  the 
sleuth." 

"What  is  your  interest  in  this  affair?"  the  old 
genealogist  asked  coldly. 

"I  stand  with  Conal,  as  far  as  I  may  in  reason. 
I  am  an  impartial  man,  I  trust.  I  judge  fairly  be- 
tween all,  so  do  not  hesitate  to  ask  my  opinion.  In 
matters  of  law  I  will  make  no  difference  between 
one  man  and  another,  though  one  were  my  brother 
and  one  my  enemy." 

"The  law  has  nothing  to  do  with  this  case,"  an- 
swered the  shanachie  with  grave  restraint.  "Your 
help  is  kindly  offered.  We  thank  you.  Please  stand 
aside." 

The  bald-headed  brehon  drew  himself  up  to  the 
full  of  his  not  imposing  height,  and  puffed  out  his 
cheeks  indignantly. 

"What  case  is  there  with  which  the  law  has 
nothing  to  do?"  he  demanded.  "Who  is  there  so 
high  that  the  law  may  not  take  hold  of  him?  See 
that  you  do  right  hi  this  matter,  or  I  will  show  you 
that  a  shanachie  is  under  the  law  like  another  man 
— his  duties  are  laid  down  for  him  with  pains  and 
penalties  for  the  breach  of  them.  I  will  tell  you 
what  the  law  has  to  say  to  you.  How  goes  the 
verse  ? 

'What  are  the  duties  of  a  shanachie?    It  is  easy  to  an- 
swer  ' " 


GIFT  FOR  GIFT  51 

"I  will  finish  your  verse  for  you,"  said  the  old 
man: 

" '  To  reprove  the  presumptuous  who  thrust  forward  without 

right, 
To   restrain  each  to  his  own   place,  not  heeding  vain 

boasting, 

These  are  a  shanachie's  duties;  fearless  his  behavior, 
Following  traditions,  not  listening  to  the  speech  of  the 

ignorant ' 

So  the  first  part  of  my  duty  is  to  put  you  in 
your  place.  You  are  an  intruding  meddler.  Stand 
aside." 

The  brehon  grew  scarlet  and  waved  his  hands 
impotently,  but  one  or  two  of  the  shanachie's  stal- 
wart disciples  closed  in  on  him,  and  he  thought  it 
best  to  say  no  more,  only  glaring  at  the  old  man 
and  muttering  through  his  teeth: 

"Disrespectful!  Abominable!  The  law  will  see 
to  it  later." 

"Which  is  Conal?"  the  old  man  asked.  "Who  is 
your  father?" 

"Cathbar,  called  Shanleh,  son  of  Con-mara." 

"Firbis,  what  is  your  descent?" 

"I  am  the  son  of  Heremon  the  son  of  Cecht." 

"And  the  dispute  concerns ?" 

"Which  is  the  closer  in  descent  to  Fiacra,  and  has 
the  higher  place  by  right  of  birth." 

The  shanachies  put  their  heads  together  again  and 
consulted  in  low  tones  for  some  time.  At  length  the 
oldest  said: 


52  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

"The  case  is  clear  enough.  So  clear  that  I  am 
surprised  at  its  ever  having  arisen.  The  verse  is 
plain: 

'  Who  was  first  of  the  blood  of  Fiacra,  strong  the  hero, 
Before  Ulster  and  Leinster  were  made  separate  ? 
It  was  Art,  the  flame  of  war,  the  bestower  of  victory.' " 

"And  Art  was  my  ancestor,"  claimed  Firbis  tri- 
umphantly. 

"That  is  true,"  said  the  shanachie.  "Moreover, 
it  says: 

'Therefore  let  all  men  of  Fiacra's  race, 
Take  gifts  from  Art  by  reason  of  his  kingship — 
Cows,  or  cloaks,  or  an  ounce  of  fine  gold.' " 

The  other  shanachies  nodded  solemnly. 

"That  is  the  right  of  it.  Let  Firbis  have  the 
place." 

Conal's  face  had  gone  red  and  white  by  turns  a 
dozen  times  while  the  verses  were  recited. 

"By  the  gods  of  Ulster!"  he  exclaimed,  "if  Art 
had  been  the  whole  chivalry  of  the  Red  Branch 
rolled  into  one,  this  fellow's  Firbolg  blood  has  made 
him  unfit  to  be  chief  of  mine.  Art  is  dead  and  his 
bones  are  burned.  The  three  tuaths  of  the  clan 
of  Fiacra  have  had  different  chiefs  for  a  century, 
and  mine  has  been  strong  in  war  and  honored  in 
men's  eyes,  while  this  one's  has  been  paying  ig- 
noble tribute  and  plotting  rebellion  against  the  High 
King,  as  all  know.  What  does  his  descent  from 


GIFT  FOR   GIFT  53 

Art  matter?  Look  at  his  black  face  and  bushy 
hair.  He  is  pure  Firbolg,  and  no  son  of  Fiacra." 

"Let  Firbis  have  the  place,"  repeated  the  shan- 
achie  indifferently.  "But  let  the  son  of  Cathbar  be 
set  first  among  the  nobles  of  less  than  kingly  rank, 
for  his  place  should  be  a  high  one." 

"Keep  no  place  for  me !"  Conal  cried,  dashing  his 
hand  against  the  door-post.  "Have  your  feast  as 
seems  best  to  you,  and  fill  your  hall  with  traitors 
and  bondsmen.  Set  the  Firbolgs  in  the  high  places, 
and  put  the  Gaels  outside  to  eat  the  scraps.  For 
myself  I  take  my  shield  and  go." 

He  strode  into  the  hall,  sprang  upon  the  table 
and  pulled  his  shield  down  from  the  wall,  scatter- 
ing cups  and  trenchers  with  his  foot.  He  came  out 
holding  the  shield  in  his  hand,  with  his  head  high 
and  his  shoulders  squared,  and  stood  in  the  door  for 
a  moment  while  he  looked  each  one  there  full  in  the 
face  in  turn.  His  eyes  glittered,  his  face  was  white 
and  strained  with  passion,  and  the  veins  on  his 
forehead  stood  out  purple.  He  began  to  walk  away 
slowly,  but  Firbis  called  after  him: 

"Wait  a  bit,  son  of  Cathbar,  there  is  something 
else." 

His  laugh  was  like  the  croak  of  an  ill-natured 
crow. 

Conal  turned,  his  neck  bent  and  his  free  hand 
clenched,  but  said  nothing. 

"You  have  forgotten  your  gift.  -Here,  take  it 
home  to  your  father,  and  tell  him  to  come  himself 
and  claim  my  seat  and  see  how  he  fares." 


54  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

Taking  a  torque  from  his  wrist,  he  threw  it  on  the 
ground  at  Conal's  feet  and  laughed  in  his  face. 

"A  gift  for  a  gift!"  cried  Conal  in  a  strange, 
choking  voice,  and  he  flung  his  heavy  shield  full  at 
Firbis's  head.  There  was  a  sharp  crack  as  bronze 
met  bone,  and  Firbis  fell,  his  limbs  flung  out,  sprawl- 
ing limply.  A  great  rush  of  blood  flooded  his  face 
like  a  curtain  and  filled  the  footprints  in  the  soft 
earth. 


CHAPTER  V 
CATHBAR  WAS  DELIGHTED 

Etain  was  sitting  in  the  sun  with  her  hair  spread 
over  her  j  shoulders  to  dry.  At  the  other  end  of  the 
bench  Finulla,  her  aunt,  was  idly  folding  her  sleeve 
in  pleats  and  pushing  her  bodkin  through  the  folds. 
Etain  was  combing  first  one  side  of  her  hair,  then 
the  other,  and  she  was  singing  to  herself  softly  as 
she  combed.  Her  look  was  abstracted.  From  time 
to  time  a  sly  smile  passed  over  her  face  and  her  lips 
moved  in  imaginary  conversation.  Then  she  would 
nod  her  head  or  toss  it  triumphantly,  laughing 
quietly.  At  last,  rising  to  her  feet,  she  twisted  her 
hair  back  over  her  ears,  pinned  it  with  the  comb, 
and  caught  up  a  mirror  of  polished  metal  in  which 
she  regarded  herself  intently  and  critically. 

"I  can  guess  what  you  are  thinking,"  said  Fi- 
nulla, hardly  glancing  up. 

"Guess  if  you  can,"  Etain  defied  her,  but  she  col- 
ored a  little. 

"'After  all,  I  cannot  blame  the  noble  Conal/  you 
were  saying  to  yourself,  'you  are  really  very  good- 
looking.'" 

Etain  laughed  and  blushed  still  more. 

"You  should  be  kinder  to  him,  Etain,"  Finulla 

55 


56  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

went  on.  "You  should  truly.  Confess.  You  like 
him." 

"He  is  very  amiable,"  said  Etain. 

"He  is  too  patient  for  his  own  good.  He  would 
go  faster  if  he  would  not  let  himself  be  imposed  upon. 
Now,  suppose  he  were  to  come  to  you  to-morrow  and 
say  forthright,  in  that  hard,  determined  tone  he  can 
use  when  he  chooses:  'Etain,  there  must  be  no  more 
trifling.  Either  we  wed  or  I  go.  Which  shall  it 
be?'" 

Etain  put  her  finger  to  her  aunt's  lip  and  shook 
her  head  rebukingly. 

"Do  not  be  foolish !    He  is  only  a  boy." 

"He  is  boyish,  but  that  is  because  he  was  late  in 
taking  arms.  You  are  only  a  maid,  for  that  matter, 
but  most  girls  are  wooed  and  are  wives  at  your  age." 

"Wives!  Say  no  more,  for  I  am  not  thinking  of 
marriage  as  yet." 

"But  Conal  is  thinking  of  it,  and  some  day  he 
will  wait  for  an  answer  no  longer.  Then  you  may 
be  sorry  and  wish  that  you  had  your  champion  back 
again,  but  he  will  be  courting  some  one  else." 

"Let  him  dare,  that  is  all!"  cried  Etain  threat- 
eningly, and  then  laughed  in  her  shrill,  clear  tone. 

"All  the  same,"  persisted  Finulla,  "you  are  vain, 
and  unreasonable,  and  provoking.  You  spend  your 
time  (I  know  you)  thinking  of  traps  to  catch  un- 
wary young  men  who  deserve  better  of  you.  Conal 
is  entirely  too  good  for  you." 

"I  wonder  if  he  thinks  so,"  said  Etain,  and  laughed 
more  than  ever. 


CATHBAR  WAS  DELIGHTED  57 

"Have  you  told  him  you  are  going  to  Tara  after 
the  fair?" 

"That  would  spoil  my  joke.  He  will  be  sure  to 
come  there  before  long,  and  by  that  time  I  will  have 
gotten  over  the  first  strangeness  and  will  have  be- 
come quite  one  of  the  court.  Can  you  not  see  him 
when  he  appears  before  the  Queen?  He  will  be 
bashful  and  embarrassed,  and  will  come  forward,  so, 
without  taking  his  eyes  from  her,  and  bow  very 
deep,  so.  Then  when  he  raises  his  eyes,  so,  there 
am  I,  so,  by  the  Queen's  side,  quite  at  home  and 
quite  composed,  in  a  new  gown  of  five  colors  at  least 
— and  gold — and  pearls  in  my  hair !  Can  you  not 
see  him?" 

"I  can  see  that  Mesgedra  is  foolish  to  let  you  go 
to  Tara  without  me.  You  will  run  wild  there  with 
no  firm  hand  over  you.  So  you  are  planning  to 
carry  your  mischief  even  into  the  High  King's  court  ?  " 

Etain  laughed  again  and  put  her  arm  about  Fi- 
nulla's  waist,  and  they  turned  to  go  back  into  the 
house. 

Suddenly  from  the  direction  of  the  fair  came  a 
medley  of  cries  and  shouts,  and  the  clatter  of  plung- 
ing horses.  Men  could  be  seen  running  about  be- 
tween the  booths,  and  in  a  few  moments  horsemen 
appeared  riding  off  in  groups,  or  galloping  singly  and 
apparently  aimlessly  about. 

Then,  in  no  more  than  the  time  it  took  to  harness 
them,  chariots  rumbled  along  the  road.  The  noise 
increased  and  spread.  Beacon  smokes  appeared  on 
the  hills,  and  throngs  of  people  burst  from  every 


58  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

opening  between  the  booths  and  poured  over  the 
fields,  hurrying  from  the  fair.  Some  of  them  had 
heads  or  shoulders  roughly  bandaged  with  bloody 
cloths;  one  or  two  limped  along  on  the  arms  of 
others;  one  or  two  stiff  cloak-covered  forms  were 
carried  past. 

At  the  first  alarm  the  household  came  running 
out  and,  looking  in  suspense  and  excitement  toward 
the  source  of  the  disturbance,  tried  to  guess  its 
cause.  They  questioned  the  passers-by .  also,  and 
got  no  answer  but  that  there  was  fighting  in  the 
fair,  and  that  it  behooved  peaceful  folk  to  go  their 
ways. 

After  a  time  the  crowd  of  fugitives  grew  less;  the 
noise  among  the  buildings  quieted.  Then  bodies 
of  mounted  men,  grim  of  face,  with  stern  eyes,  went 
galloping  off  in  all  directions. 

At  last  Mesgedra  appeared,  breathless,  his  robe 
torn  and  dusty,  his  beard  out  of  curl.  Etain  and 
the  others  flew  at  him  and  besieged  him  with  ques- 
tions, but  for  a  long  time  he  only  sat  and  panted, 
until  it  occurred  to  some  one  to  fetch  a  measure  of 
ale.  He  seized  it  and  embraced  it,  shaking  his  head 
and  breathing  deep  between  swallows. 

"Bad  news!  Bad  news!"  he  gasped  at  last. 
"The  fau:  is  on  fire.  A  hundred  old  feuds  have 
broken  out.  The  like  has  not  been  seen  in  my  time 
or^my  father's,  either.  Oh,  bad  !  Bad !" 

"What  has  happened?  Tell  us  quickly.  Who  are 
fighting?" 

"  No  one  now.    There  were  blows  struck,  but  that 


CATHBAR  WAS  DELIGHTED  59 

is  over.  Oh,  me  !  To  have  seen  weapons  raised  at 
Tailtenn!" 

"What  caused  it?  What  was  the  quarrel?  Tell 
us  in  the  name  of  Bel !" 

"It  was  Ulster  against  Leinster,  clan  against  clan, 
and  a.  family  quarrel  to  boot.  Such  a  web  of  grudges 
was  never  seen." 

He  finished  his  ale  with  a  gulp. 

"Well,  it  is  over  now,  I  think,  but  it  has  spoiled 
the  fair  as  far  as  pleasure  is  concerned.  Etain,  you 
must  be  gone.  I  have  sent  for  your  chariot  and  the 
servants.  Present  my  duty  to  the  Queen  and  to 
Dathi,  if  he  be  there,  and  my  fond  love  to  Laegaire, 
your  foster-brother.  There !  A  kiss,  my  dear,  and 
be  getting  your  belongings  together." 

"But  I  cannot  go  now,"  said  Etain  in  dismay. 
"Without  notice?  Without  farewells?  Every  one 
will  think  it  so  strange.  What  harm  in  my  staying 
if  the  fighting  is  over?" 

"No  one  will  think  it  strange  if  you  do  as  your 
father  bids  you.  Here  are  all  the  household.  Make 
your  farewells  now." 

"Why  must  you  hurry  the  child  so?"  said  Fi- 
nulla  crossly.  "I  had  promised  her  a  peep  at  the 
banquet-hall,  and  when  Conal  comes  (he  will  be  here 
in  a  moment)  I  mean  to  ask  him  to  walk  that  far 
with  us.  It  is  silly  to  spoil  our  pleasure  because  of  a 
broil." 

"There  will  be  no  walking  to-day,"  answered  Mes- 
gedra  impatiently.  "After  what  has  happened  the 
hall  is  no  sight  for  women's  eyes." 


60  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

Etain  hung  back  and  showed  that  she  thought  her- 
self very  much  abused. 

"It  is  not  that  I  mind  myself,"  she  said  in  an 
aggrieved  tone,  "but  I  do  not  like  people  to  think 
me  rude.  Conal  will  be  offended,  I  am  sure.  He 
said  particularly  that  he  was  coming  for  us.  Finulla 
was  telling  me  that  I  was  not  polite  enough  to  him, 
and  now  you  would  have  me  treat  him  so  slightingly. 
I  think  I  should  wait  until  he  comes.  That  little 
time  will  not  matter." 

Mesgedra  looked  at  Etain  with  a  frown  and  yet 
dubiously. 

"Conal?  Hut!  Make  yourself  easy.  He  will 
not  come.  One  can  never  count  on  lads  of  his  age. 
This  morning  he  decided  suddenly  to  go  travelling 
again,  and  he  has  left  the  fair  long  ago." 

A  little  pink  spot  sprang  up  on  Etain's  cheek;  her 
nostrils  widened  a  trifle,  and  her  eyes  snapped  omi- 
nously, but  she  turned  away  as  indifferently  as  pos- 
sible. 

"Oh,  well,"  she  said,  "a  day  does  not  matter.  I 
will  make  ready." 

She  marched  away,  striking  her  heels  vigorously 
against  the  ground. 

When  she  had  gone  Finulla  turned  instantly  to 
her  brother. 

"  What  of  Conal  ?    Where  is  he  ?  " 

"Conal?  Who  knows?  The  farther  off  the 
luckier  he." 

"He  is  in  trouble,  then?  What  have  they  done 
to  him,  or  what  has  he  done?" 


CATHBAR  WAS  DELIGHTED  61 

"He  has  broken  the  peace  of  the  fair.  He  has 
slain  Firbis  and  fled ! " 

Finulla's  face  filled  with  concern  as  she  turned  un- 
consciously to  look  after  Etain. 

"It  is  death,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  "Death 
without  mercy." 

"That  is  the  law.  If  he  is  caught  they  will  stab 
him  to  death  with  the  butts  of  their  spears.  The 
Leinstermen  are  thirsting  for  blood.  He  is  an  un- 
lucky Ulsterman  who  is  found  in  Tailtenn  to-night. 
Luckily  for  Conal,  they  fell  to  fighting  instead  of  fol- 
lowing him,  for  it  has  given  him  a  good  start,  and 
with  such  horses  as  he  has  he  may  escape  them.  I 
hope  so,  for  I  liked  the  boy.  I  liked  him  well." 

"I  pray  he  may  escape,"  said  Finulla  compassion- 
ately. "How  did  it  happen?  He  is  so  hot-tem- 
pered." 

"Yes,  he  is  no  person  to  abuse,  and  that  Firbis 
had  a  rough  tongue.  But  he  should  have  been  pa- 
tient and  waited  until  the  fair  was  over  instead  of 
answering  word  with  blow." 

"Why  did  you  not  bring  him  away?  You  knew 
he  would  not  bear  insult  from  any  one." 

"It  is  true  the  things  Firbis  said  were  not  to  be 
borne  in  patience,"  admitted  Mesgedra.  "I  would 
have  killed  him  to-morrow  myself,  for  he  ran  out 
his  tongue  at  me,  too.  But  I  respected  the  peace, 
for  I  knew  there  was  time  enough.  Conal  should 
have  waited,  too.  It  will  go  hard  with  him  if  he  is 
caught." 

"Where  has  he  gone,  do  you  think?" 


62  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

"I  do  not  even  know  what  direction  he  took,  for 
he  was  off  like  an  arrow,  and  sank  into  the  crowd 
like  a  raindrop  in  a  river.  I  wish  I  had  been  able 
to  tell  him  to  put  himself  under  the  High  King's 
protection.  Dathi  has  a  grudge  against  all  Leinster- 
men,  and  would  perhaps  have  welcomed  him  in  spite 
of  the  law  and  taken  him  to  Gaul  with  his  army." 

"  Most  likely  he  has  gone  home,"  suggested  Finulla. 
"He  would  be  safe  there,  would  he  not?" 

"He  will  be  sought  there  first  of  all,"  said  Mes- 
gedra  with  a  foreboding  shake  of  the  head.  "But 
Cathbar  will  protect  him  for  a  time,  I  suppose.  I 
am  thinking  that  it  would  be  a  friendly  thing  for 
me  to  go  to  Cathbar  and  consult  with  him  what 
may  be  done.  Perhaps  we  may  find  means  of  help- 
ing Conal  to  escape  the  penalty.  I  will  wait  for 
Eoghan  the  brehon;  his  knowledge  of  the  law  will 
be  serviceable,  though  he  has  little  sense.  And 
Ronan  must  go  with  me,  for  he  is  a  good  man  to 
have  about  and  handy  with  weapons.  The  others 
can  go  back  with  you  to  the  bruden,  and  we  will  be 
home  hi  a  week's  tune  at  most.  .  .  .  And  there  is  no 
need  to  say  anything  to  Etain.  She  likes  the  boy 
(I  do,  too,  for  that  matter),  but  her  liking  had  best 
be  forgotten.  Conal  is  a  marked  man  now.  The 
best  he  can  hope  for  is  to  escape  with  his  life  and  live 
an  exile  hi  Alban." 

Finulla  nodded  a  reluctant  agreement. 

In  a  little  time  Etain  returned,  ready  for  the  road, 
kissed  her  father  and  Finulla  soberly,  and  set  off 
in  her  feathered  chariot. 


CATHBAR  WAS  DELIGHTED  63 

Mesgedra  also  made  his  preparations,  and  hardly 
had  Eoghan  and  Ronan  appeared  before  they,  too, 
were  on  the  road,  splashing  through  puddles,  for  a 
fine  rain  had  begun  to  fall. 

The  old  man  looked  over  the  dismal,  damp  fields 
and  the  gloom  of  the  day  weighed  upon  him.  He 
had  gro'wn  fond  of  the  boy,  and,  knowing  that  he  was 
in  a  strait  that  was  like  to  be  fatal  to  him  unless 
older  and  wiser  heads  came  to  his  aid,  he  pondered 
continually  over  the  chances  for  his  escape.  But 
for  once  his  sapient  brain  failed  of  resource.  He 
imagined  Conal,  hunted  and  desperate,  spurring 
through  the  misty  mountain  passes,  with  the  aven- 
gers of  blood  at  his  heels.  Sometimes  he  was  able 
to  picture  him  drawing  away  from  them,  eluding 
them,  coming  safe  to  some  discreet  hiding-place,  or 
some  quiet  port  from  which  merchant  vessels  sailed, 
but  more  often  he  saw  the  pursuers  coming  closer  and 
closer  until  their  cries  rang  hi  Conal's  ears;  his  horse 
began  to  pant  and  flag;  the  first  arrow  dropped  a 
scant  pace  behind  him — Mesgedra  shook  his  head 
and  pressed  on. 

Another  thing  troubled  him.  He  and  Conal's 
father  had  been  old  comrades  hi  arms,  and  he  had 
plotted  innocently,  seeing  the  lad's  growing  intimacy 
with  Etain,  to  throw  them  more  and  more  together. 
Now  he  felt  that  he  had  been  unwise,  and  was  con- 
sumed with  fear  that  Conal's  plight  might  mean 
too  much  to  Etain,  lest  the  news  of  his  punishment 
might  be  a  weapon  to  strike  her  down. 

Ronan  suggested  one  wild  project  after  another, 


64  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

but  Mesgedra  would  have  none  of  them.  They  all 
felt  very  gloomy  and  depressed. 

They  spent  that  night  in  a  guest-house  a  few  miles 
on  the  road  to  Ulster.  The  next  day  was  brighter, 
and  they  travelled  faster  and  were  more  hopeful. 
The  third  day  they  came  in  sight  of  the  deserted 
forts  and  crumbling  mounds  of  Emain  Macha,  and 
at  last  to  a  great  and  strong  dun,  the  dun  of  Cathbar, 
Conal's  home. 

Mesgedra  and  Ronan  exclaimed  with  pleasure  over 
the  strength  and  beauty  of  the  castle,  which  was 
indeed  hardly  to  be  surpassed  hi  Eirinn.  Rich  green 
pastures  swept  up  to  it  and  encircled  it.  The  wall, 
towering  to  a  great  height,  was  snowy  white  with 
lime  and  shone  bravely  in  the  sun.  The  gate  was 
narrow,  fit  for  strong  defense  against  great  num- 
bers; over  it  a  stoutly  built  wooden  structure  was 
projected,  the  sunny  house  of  the  women  in  time 
of  peace  and  an  excellent  lookout-place  if  danger 
threatened.  For  a  space  of  thirty  yards  around  the 
wall  sharp  flintstones  were  planted,  as  large  as  a 
man,  and  set  so  close  together  that  in  places  a  man 
could  hardly  squeeze  between  them. 

Within  the  circuit  of  the  wall  was  space  for  hall 
and  kitchen,  granary  and  treasure-house,  and  in- 
numerable buildings  for  every  purpose  of  use  and 
comfort. 

Cathbar  had  seen  them  coming  in  the  distance, 
and  he  hurried  to  meet  them,  wishing  to  do  Mes- 
gedra honor. 

"This  is  friendly  of  you,  friendly  indeed,"  he 


CATHBAR  WAS  DELIGHTED  65 

cried,  beaming  with  pleasure.  "I  can  guess  why 
you  have  come;  so  speak  out,  for  I  am  anxious  for 
news." 

"Is  Conal  here?"  asked  Mesgedra  quickly. 

"He  is  not  here." 

"Others  have  been  searching  for  him,  I  sup- 
pose. You  know  what  mischief  he  has  done  at  the 
fair?" 

"I  know  nothing.  Two  parties  came  seeking 
him,  as  you  say,  but  they  had  arms  in  their  hands, 
so  I  barred  the  gate  and  laughed  at  them  from  the 
top  of  the  grianan.  They  were  all  Leinstermen.  It 
was  very  funny  to  hear  them  curse  and  threaten. 
So  I  have  not  heard  a  word  of  what  Conal  has  done, 
but  I  take  it  that  it  must  have  been  something 
sprightly  to  have  caused  so  many  to  lose  sleep  hunt- 
ing for  him." 

"He  has  killed  Firbis,  your  kinsman." 

"That  was  a  good  beginning  for  a  young  man," 
said  Cathbar  complacently.  "Firbis  was  a  strong 
man,  skilled  in  fighting.  How  did  he  kill  him?" 

"He  threw  his  shield  at  him  and  broke  his  skull. 
They  quarrelled  over  a  matter  of  descent." 

"An  excellent  cause  for  a  quarrel.  And  what 
happened  then?" 

"Why,  then  he  ran  away.     I  do  not  know  where." 

"Ran  away?  What  do  you  say?  Black  shame 
on  him  not  to  have  stood  his  ground  though  there 
were  twenty  against  him ! " 

"Twenty !  There  were  two  thousand.  He  killed 
Firbis  in  the  face  of  Tailtenn  fair.  The  shanachies 


66  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

upheld  the  Leinsterman  against  him,  and  he  laid 
him  at  their  feet." 

"That  is  a  son  for  a  man !"  cried  Cathbar  hi  tri- 
umph. "Brave  boy !  It  is  a  deed  that  will  be  told 
hi  songs !  A  notable  thing !  It  was  like  you,  Mes- 
gedra,  to  hurry  to  me  with  the  news.  I  am  a  happy 
man  this  day!  In  sight  of  all  the  fair!  Well, 
well!" 

"But  have  you  thought  what  is  to  become  of  the 
boy?"  cried  Mesgedra  impatiently. 

Cathbar  stopped  and  scratched  his  head. 

"That  is  true,"  he  said  in  an  altered  voice.  "It 
is  death  without  eric  to  break  the  peace  of  Tailtenn. 
We  must  find  some  way  of  saving  him." 

"At  any  rate,  send  out  runners  and  rouse  your 
men.  If  the  Leinstermen  think  he  is  in  the  dun, 
we  may  hold  them  here  until  he  has  gotten  safely 
away." 

"I  will  do  that,"  said  Cathbar,  much  encouraged. 
"At  least,  however  it  turns  out,  he  has  made  a 
name  for  himself.  Come  you  inside  and  tell  me  the 
whole  tale,  while  I  make  ready.  There  will  be  fires 
burning  about  here  by  morning." 

Soon  there  came  a  great  sound  of  bellowing  and 
bleating  as  numbers  of  cattle  were  driven  into  the 
enclosure  of  the  dun.  People,  too,  began  to  arrive 
in  haste,  the  families  that  lived  under  the  walls  of 
the  dun  first,  and  after  a  tune  other  men  of  the  clan, 
armed  and  ready.  The  story  of  Conal's  exploit 
spread  and  was  magnified,  and  all  agreed  with  de- 
light that  he  was  a  true  son  of  Cathbar's  and  of 


CATHBAR  WAS  DELIGHTED  67 

Fiacra's,  a  credit  to  the  clan  and  an  honor  to  the 
knightly  order. 

As  fast  as  his  supporters  arrived  Cathbar  disposed 
them  about  the  wall.  The  grianan  was  emptied 
and  the  women  removed  to  less  exposed  quarters. 
Cathbar  himself  took  his  station  there  to  direct  the 
defense.* 

Night  drew  quietly  down.  The  gates  were  closed 
and  the  defenders  slept  hi  their  mantles.  Presently 
fires  glowed  around  the  dun,  and  the  rumbling  of 
wheels  announced  that  the  besiegers  were  at  hand. 

With  the  dawn  a  loud  shout  resounded  around  the 
wall  and  the  dun  was  attacked  from  all  sides. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  DEFENSE  OF  CATHBAR'S  DUN 

So  well  was  the  assault  prepared  that  two  or  three 
sentries  who  had  been  placed  outside  the  wall  were 
overtaken  and  cut  down  before  they  could  gain  shel- 
ter, and  Cathbar  and  Mesgedra,  hurrying  out  on 
the  roof,  could  see  the  assailants,  coming  on  at  a  run, 
and  already  almost  under  the  ramparts.  The  air 
was  full  of  darts  and  arrows,  and  the  sling-stones 
striking  the  wooden  walls  of  the  sunny  house  made 
a  noise  like  the  continual  pounding  of  heavy  beetles, 
or  like  a  woman  mixing  batter  in  an  earthen  bowl. 

"  Strike,  Ulster ! "  cried  Cathbar,  whirling  up  his 
long  green  spear.  It  flew  droning  through  the  air, 
and  a  tall  warrior  got  death  from  it. 

"Strike!"  echoed  Mesgedra,  and  cast  in  his  turn. 

Everywhere  the  defenders  had  flung  off  their 
cloaks  and  mounted  the  wall,  and  were  returning 
arrow  for  arrow  and  spear  for  spear. 

The  advancing  assailants  were  broken  and  ham- 
pered by  the  hedge  of  planted  flintstones.  The  road 
was  free  at  the  entrance  only,  and  they  flew  at  the 
gate  with  mighty  axes,  hewing  and  battering  until 
it  seemed  that  no  wood  or  bronze  could  withstand 
the  shock  of  their  blows. 

Cathbar  had  ample  stores  of  stones  and  darts  on 

68 


THE  DEFENSE  OF  CATHBAR'S  DUN    69 

the  roof  of  the  grianan,  besides  boiling  water  and 
blazing  tow,  which  they  poured  without  ceasing  on 
the  heads  below,  but  the  rain  of  arrows  from  with- 
out hindered  them.  Moreover,  every  time  a  mis- 
sile struck  the  wall  or  bounded  off  a  ready  shield,  a 
puff  of  white  powder  flew  from  the  dry  lime,  so  that 
a  thick  cloud  of  fine  dust  drifted  continually  up- 
ward, filling  their  eyes  and  nostrils;  but,  although 
this  was  disconcerting,  it  did  not  discourage  those 
in  the  dun,  secure  hi  the  strength  of  their  walls,  and 
they  worked  the  more  vigorously  for  the  difficulty 
of  aiming,  and  were  not  surprised  when  the  dust 
cloud  lifted  for  an  instant  and  showed  that  the  be- 
siegers were  giving  up  the  attack  and  dodging  away 
through  the  flints  at  the  sides  of  the  road. 

Cathbar  sent  a  last  spear  after  them,  rested  his 
hands  on  his  hips  and  wagged  his  head  in  triumph. 

"Not  so  fast !  Not  so  fast,  nobles  of  Leinster !" 
he  bellowed.  "  You  have  forgotten  something.  You 
are  leaving  your  shields  behind  you." 

He  waved  them  farewell  contemptuously. 

"A  hot  meal  is  soon  served,"  he  said  to  Mesgedra. 
"I  think  those  jolly  Leinstermen  have  had  their  fill 
of  nibbling  at  our  pretty  white  walls." 

Mesgedra  combed  his  beard  with  his  fingers  and 
looked  critically  after  the  retreating  men. 

"They  pressed  us  hard  here,  and  they  will  return," 
he  said  positively.  "  And  next  time  it  will  be  harder 
still  to  deal  with  them.  If  they  have  a  leader  of  but 
ordinary  skill  he  will  mass  his  men  on  the  gate  and 
threaten  the  other  sides  with  small  parties.  Better 


70  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

call  more  of  your  men  here,  and  be  ready  to  deal 
with  a  stronger  force  this  time." 

"  Strong  or  weak,  we  will  handle  them — but  what 
you  say  is  wise,  and  I  will  call  off  some  from  the 
other  side  to  help  us  here." 

He  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  roof,  leaped  lightly 
down  on  top  of  the  wall,  and  made  the  circuit  of  the 
dun,  selecting  here  one  and  there  another  to  swell 
the  numbers  at  the  gate. 

The  few  wounds  among  the  clansmen  were  bound, 
and  the  women  and  children  were  set  to  gathering 
the  weapons  and  sling-stones,  which  covered  the 
earth  inside  the  enclosure. 

Among  those  whom  Cathbar  chose  to  join  his 
party  at  the  gate  was  Ronan  Dhu.  He  had  been 
busy  on  another  part  of  the  wall,  and  at  the  word 
hitched  his  shield  over  his  shoulder  and  made  his 
way  to  the  grianan,  reaching  it  just  as  Eoghan's 
head  appeared  above  the  roof  level. 

The  brehon  was  climbing  up  a  ladder  from  the 
inside  of  the  dun.  He  raised  himself  cautiously, 
rung  by  rung,  and  looked  about  in  every  direction 
before  trusting  himself  fully  into  view.  His  long 
saffron  robe  was  generously  kilted  up  to  show  the 
greater  part  of  a  very  fat  and  somewhat  hairy  pair 
of  legs.  For  a  weapon  he  had  a  small  iron  mace 
with  a  prong  in  the  end,  which  he  held  gingerly  be- 
tween his  fingers  as  if  afraid  of  dropping  it. 

"Well,  Eoghan?  How  went  things  where  you 
were?"  asked  Ronan  cheerfully  (he  was  more  affable 
than  usual  when  fighting  was  on  foot). 


THE  DEFENSE  OF  CATHBAR'S  DUN        71 

"Very  noisily  and  disagreeably!"  complained  the 
brehon.  "The  women  cried  and  the  children  bel- 
lowed, and  heavy  things  kept  dropping  on  the  roof 
so  that  I  found  it  impossible  to  sleep.  It  is  disgust- 
ing for  people  to  fight  at  this  hour.  They  have 
spoiled  my  appetite  for  my  morning  meat." 

"What?"  cried  Ronan.  "Have  you  been  skulk- 
ing in  bed  while  we  have  held  the  wall,  bald-headed 
ox  that  you  are?  If  I  had  known  where  you  were 
I  would  have  dragged  you  out  and  tossed  you  on 
their  heads.  Indeed,  I  have  a  mind  to  pitch  you 
over  on  the  flints  now." 

"  Hut !  Hut ! "  said  Mesgedra,  coming  up  to  them. 
"He  is  here  to  help  us  now.  What  more  do  you 
want?  It  is  not  his  fault  if  he  is  a  heavy  sleeper. 
It  needs  a  cool  head  to  sleep  while  a  fight  rages.  I 
am  glad  to  have  another  willing  hand  at  the  gate 
here,  for  I  can  see  that  they  are  making  ready  for 
another  attack,  and  we  will  need  all  our  strength 
against  them." 

"  He  will  be  great  help  ! "  growled  Ronan.  "  What 
does  he  expect  to  do  with  that  silly  little  mace  ?  It 
is  a  thing  to  drive  pegs  with,  not  to  crack  skulls, 
and  he  is  too  fat  to  strike  a  good  blow.  But  as  you 
say,  one  man  more  is  something.  If  the  arrows  come 
thick,  we  can  all  hide  behind  him." 

Eoghan  looked  dubious  as  if  the  strategy  did  not 
appeal  to  him. 

"Do  not  mind  Ronan,"  said  Mesgedra,  clapping 
him  cheerfully  on  the  shoulder.  "He  is  a  grumbler. 
I  am  sure  you  will  do  your  part,  and  if  you  wish  to 


72  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

change  your  weapon  there  are  enough  about  for  you 
to  take  your  pick." 

"I  will  keep  to  my  mace,  no  matter  what  Ronan 
thinks  of  it,"  Eoghan  answered.  "Nor  do  I  mind 
his  jokes  at  all.  I  confess,  though,  that  my  mind 
misgives  me  about  this  affair.  I  trust  I  have  as 
much  courage  as  the  next  one,  but  after  all,  my  pro- 
fession must  be  considered.  I  am  a  man  of  the  law, 
which  makes  it  hard  for  me  to  take  part  in  this 
quarrel.  Young  Conal  has  broken  the  law,  that  is 
certain,  and  these  men  are  in  their  rights  in  trying 
to  seize  him.  Suppose  they  were  to  see  me  on  the 
wall  and  appeal  to  me:  'Brehon,  give  judgment.' 
I  should  be  forced  to  decide  in  their  favor,  and  give 
sentence  against  all  of  you.  Perhaps  it  would  be 
best  for  me  to  get  out  of  sight,  where  they  will  not 
recognize  me.  You  see  my  position.  Think  how 
very  awkward  it  would  be." 

"Listen!"  said  Ronan  grimly.  "That  is  not  the 
position  at  all.  You  see  this  spear  ?  Feel  the  point 
of  it  well.  It  is  sharp  ?  Remember  it,  for,  by  the 
oath  of  my  people,  as  these  Ulstermen  say,  I  will 
send  it  two  inches  into  the  fat  of  your  hams  if  I  see 
you  give  way  by  the  breadth  of  a  thumb." 

"Take  care  what  you  say.  That  approaches  a 
threat,"  said  the  brehon  with  dignity. 

"It  sounded  very  like  one,"  Mesgedra  affirmed 
gravely.  "How  lucky  that  we  know  that  Ronan  is 
joking,  for  if  he  said  such  a  thing  seriously,  I  be- 
lieve he  is  the  very  fellow  to  do  as  he  promised. 
But,  for  your  own  misgivings,  you  have  my  word 


THE  DEFENSE  OF  CATHBAR'S  DUN    73 

that  Conal  is  not  in  the  dun;  so  if  they  call  on  you, 
you  can  give  judgment  for  them  to  go  and  hunt  for 
him." 

"If  Conal  is  not  here,  then  they  are  only  tres- 
passers," the  brehon  cried,  his  professional  interest 
aroused  at  once.  "It  is  my  advice  for  you  not  to 
bother  With  fighting  them,  but  to  leave  it  to  me  to 
settle.  Every  noble's  homestead  is  a  sanctuary. 
The  green  before  his  gate  is  a  sacred  place.  Every 
one  of  them,  and  they  are  many,  would  be  liable  for 
eric-fine,  three  seds  in  cattle  or  gold,  besides  honor 
price,  which  would  be  a  great  sum  in  itself.  All  that 
is  necessary  is  for  you  not  to  attempt  to  fight  them, 
but  to  put  aside  your  arms  and  appeal  to  the 
law." 

"This  fellow  will  drive  me  mad!"  cried  Ronan, 
beside  himself.  "You  fat  swine,  what  use  will  three 
seds  of  cattle  be  to  a  man  with  his  throat  cut?  I 
tell  you  if  you  will  not  fight  for  your  friend's  sake, 
or  for  honor,  fight  for  your  own  skin.  Those  Lein- 
stermen  care  as  little  for  a  brehon  as  I  do  for  a 
badger." 

Mesgedra  had  turned  away  and  was  examining  the 
besiegers  again. 

"There  are  others  besides  Leinstermen  there,"  he 
asserted.  "They  have  many  from  the  fair  to  help 
them.  And  indeed,  Ronan,"  he  went  on,  lowering 
his  voice  and  drawing  away  a  little  from  the  brehon, 
"if  it  were  not  for  the  sake  of  my  old  friendship  with 
Cathbar,  and  the  liking  I  have  for  our  lad  Conal,  I 
would  be  as  well  pleased  not  to  be  concerned  in  the 


74  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

affair  myself.  Look  there  where  they  stand  close 
together.  Do  you  see  the  red  shields  shining  in  the 
sun  ?  If  I  am  not  wrong  those  are  men  of  the  High 
King's  household  soldiers,  the  Fir  Tighe.  If  Dathi 
himself  has  taken  part  against  us,  I  do  not  see  what 
there  is  for  us  to  do  but  to  give  in  or  die  in  the 
flames  of  the  dun,  an  ill  death  for  men  whom  the 
king  has  honored." 

"I  saw  those  red  shields  on  the  other  side  where 
I  was  fighting,"  replied  Ronan.  "They  are  men  of 
the  Fir  Tighe  without  question,  but  there  are  few 
of  them,  and  they  held  back,  as  far  as  I  could  see, 
and  rather  hindered  the  attack  than  helped  it." 

"In  that  case  it  is  likely  that  they  happened  to 
be  at  the  fair,  and  came  along  only  because  they  had 
no  orders  one  way  or  the  other.  However,  they 
know  that  Dathi  has  no  liking  for  Leinster,  and  if 
we  do  not  single  them  out  and  give  them  cause  to 
seek  revenge  on  their  own  part,  they  will  grow  weary 
soon  and  make  some  excuse  for  going  away.  In 
any  case,  we  are  here,  and  we  will  stay.  Eh, 
Ronan?" 

"I  will  stay  or  go  at  your  word,"  replied  the  bard 
in  loyal  fashion,  "but  it  is  more  to  my  liking  to 
finish  a  fight  once  begun,  than  to  seek  safety." 

"They  are  massing  their  men.  We  will  have  more 
fighting  soon,"  called  Cathbar,  appearing  with  his 
picked  band.  "What  do  you  say,  Mesgedra? 
Would  it  not  be  better  for  you  to  take  your  party 
and  go  out  of  the  dun?  I  am  thankful  for  the 
friendly  part  you  have  played,  but  after  all  you  have 


THE  DEFENSE  OF  CATHBAR'S  DUN    75 

no  part  in  Conal's  quarrel.  They  will  let  you  pass 
through  now,  but  later,  when  their  fighting  rage  is 
up,  your  chance  will  be  gone." 

"Ronan  and  I  have  been  speaking  of  that,"  re- 
plied the  old  brugaid  frankly,  "but  we  are  neither 
of  us  so  sickly  that  we  grudge  a  little  blood  on  a 
friend's- behalf.  So  count  us  in  the  garrison,  as  well 
as  this  brave  brehon  here,  who  alone  is  worth  a 
dozen  men." 

"I  thank  you,  Mesgedra,  and  the  noble  brehon, 
too,  and  I  will  confess  your  spears  will  be  a  help, 
for,  though  the  dun  is  strong,  it  has  a  great  circuit, 
and  it  takes  many  men  to  hold  it.  It  will  not  be 
for  long  though;  last  night  I  sent  word  to  my  chief 
of  what  was  threatening,  and  by  now  five  hundred 
spears  are  on  the  road  here." 

"  That  was  well  thought  of .  But  see!  Here  they 
come !" 

They  dropped  to  their  knees  behind  the  parapet 
as  a  fresh  flight  of  arrows  sang  around  them.  As 
Mesgedra  had  foretold,  the  second  attack  centred 
on  the  gate,  though  bodies  of  spearmen,  creeping  up 
on  all  sides,  felt  for  other  weak  places  along  the 
wall.  The  main  column  came  on  with  a  dash.  The 
front  ranks  held  their  shields  aloft.  Behind  them 
came  men  carrying  notched  trunks,  serving  equally 
as  battering  rams  and  ladders.  They  suffered  ter- 
ribly in  their  advance  from  the  missiles  of  the  de- 
fenders, but  they  pushed  on  gallantly  and  reached 
the  wall,  where  they  were  sheltered  a  little,  for  the 
grianan  projected,  and  they  gathered  under  it. 


76  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

The  gate  began  to  shake  under  their  blows,  and 
the  wooden  bolts  jumped  and  rattled  in  their  sockets. 
Up  the  notched  trunks  the  warriors  swarmed,  set- 
ting foot  again  and  again  on  the  wall,  to  be  beaten 
down  and  overwhelmed  by  the  bowlders  plunging 
down  on  them  from  the  roof  of  the  sunny  house. 

Cathbar  was  fighting  furiously  with  a  gay  and 
impetuous  valor  that  contradicted  his  white  hair 
and  wrinkled  cheeks.  His  sword  seemed  to  twist 
and  struggle  hi  his  hand  with  impatience  to  slay. 
He  leaned  far  out  over  the  verge,  exposing  himself 
recklessly,  and  defying  the  sling-stones  that  struck 
and  bounded  about  him. 

Mesgedra  hurled  spears  steadily,  with  an  easy, 
regular  swing  of  the  arm  like  a  woman  throwing 
grain  to  chickens. 

A  long  leather  sling  whirled  continuously  over 
Ronan's  head.  It  made  a  smooth,  humming  sound, 
ending  in  a  clean  swish  as  the  stone  left  the  pocket. 
He  muttered  angrily  when  he  missed,  and  hissed  be- 
tween his  teeth  when  he  made  a  good  throw,  and 
sometimes,  when  the  Leinstermen  came  crowding 
up  the  ladders  and  pressed  them  hard,  he  would 
drop  the  sling  and  cast  the  stones  from  his  hand 
with  scarcely  less  force. 

Eoghan  the  brehon  knelt  inside  the  parapet  with 
his  nose  against  the  palings.  From  time  to  time  he 
extended  his  arm  into  view,  and  made  a  labored 
stroke  with  his  mace,  but  as  he  always  waited  for 
the  moments  when  the  attack  slackened,  and  never 
by  any  chance  raised  his  head  to  see  where  to  strike, 


THE  DEFENSE  OF  CATHBAR'S  DUN    77 

his  efforts  were  without  any  great  effect  on  the  result 
of  the  battle. 

It  was  easy  to  deal  with  those  who  tried  to  climb 
the  wall,  but  those  who  kept  under  shelter  beneath 
the  overhang  of  the  grianan  and  put  forth  their 
strength  on  the  gate  were  having  better  success. 
They  were  working  there  without  a  pause,  and  it 
became  evident  that  they  must  be  dislodged  or  the 
gate  would  go.  Cathbar  sent  a  few  of  his  men  to 
place  braces  and  balks  against  it  on  the  inside,  but 
the  timbers  could  be  gotten  only  by  tearing  them 
out  of  the  houses  inside  the  dun,  and  the  work  went 
slowly. 

"If  we  could  reach  those  below  there,"  said  Mes- 
gedra,  "we  could  keep  the  wall  clear  easily.  Is 
there  no  way  of  getting  at  them  except  to  leap  down 
and  fight  them  on  the  ground?" 

"Of  course,  there  is  a  way !"  said  Cathbar,  striking 
his  brow.  "I  was  so  taken  up  with  the  joy  of  fight- 
ing that  I  have  forgotten  to  put  any  men  in  the 
grianan.  The  floor  is  loose,  and  it  is  only  a  matter 
of  moving  a  few  staves  to  be  able  to  drop  on  their 
heads  from  above." 

"You  might  have  thought  of  that  before,"  Ronan 
grumbled.  "Let  us  hurry,  or  that  forgetfulness  of 
yours  will  lose  us  the  gate."  He  began  to  make  his 
way  to  the  ladder,  but  at  the  moment  Mesgedra 
raised  his  eyes  and  with  a  shout  pointed  to  the  dis- 
tance. Just  within  arrowshot  a  strange  engine  was 
approaching  the  dun.  It  was  a  sort  of  hut  on  wheels ; 
a  framework  of  chariot  shafts  and  the  wicker  sides 


78  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

of  chariots,  hung  with  hides,  and  robes,  and  shields 
set  close  together,  so  that  it  completely  hid  and  pro- 
tected a  number  of  men  within  it.  A  heavy  beam 
protruded  through  an  opening.  It  swung  freely 
from  stout  ropes,  and  an  iron  knob  was  lashed  to 
the  tip  of  it.  The  whole  was  set  on  the  wheels  and 
axles  of  the  chariots  that  had  been  destroyed  to 
make  it,  and  it  was  being  pushed  rapidly  up  to  the 
gate  of  the  dun. 

Every  one  on  the  roof  turned  his  weapons  against 
it  at  once,  but  the  bolts  glanced  off  the  hides  with- 
out effect,  and  the  respite  encouraged  the  party 
below  to  batter  on  the  gate  with  redoubled  vigor. 

"Now,  there  is  something  clever !"  Mesgedra  cried 
in  honest  admiration.  "They  have  a  good  man 
among  them  who  thought  of  that." 

"More  stones  here!  More  stones!"  shouted 
Ronan  Dhu,  toppling  a  huge  bowlder  over  the  edge 
of  the  roof.  "The  frame  shakes.  They  are  loosen- 
ing it  in  the  wall." 

The  machine  came  forward  steadily,  and  was  at 
the  very  gate.  The  men  who  had  been  battering 
with  axes  and  tree-trunks  leaped  aside  to  allow  the 
formidable  thing  to  have  free  play,  and  with  a  deaf- 
ening crash  it  set  its  head  against  the  stout  leaves  of 
the  entrance.  The  force  of  the  impact  could  be 
felt  even  on  the  top  of  the  grianan. 

Over  from  the  roof  went  stones  and  timbers,  a 
crushing  weight  of  them,  but  the  inventive  Leinster- 
man  had  done  his  work  well;  the  frame  of  the 
machine  withstood  all  their  attempts  to  crush  it. 


THE   DEFENSE  OF  CATHBAR'S  DUN         79 

The  defenders  looked  at  each  other  in  doubt. 
Surely  the  gate  was  nothing  against  the  rhythmical 
pounding  that  made  the  grianan  quiver.  Secure  as 
they  had  felt  themselves,  this  fellow's  perverse  in- 
genuity had  no  sooner  seen  the  weak  spot  they  had 
overlooked  than  he  had  taken  advantage  of  it. 
What  use  in  the  thickness  and  height  of  the  wall,  or 
the  baffling  intricacy  of  the  barrier  of  flints,  when, 
under  the  shelter  of  their  own  projecting  battlement, 
this  machine,  flung  together  of  what  came  first  to 
hand,  was  undoing  them? 

"Every  man  out  of  the  grianan!"  cried  Cathbar 
suddenly.  " For  your  lives !  Back!" 

His  followers  sprang  down  on  the  walls  at  the 
word,  Mesgedra  was  hurried  down  a  ladder,  and  the 
Old  Hero,  beckoning  to  Ronan  to  follow,  dropped 
down  into  the  interior  of  the  building.  He  seized  a 
great  axe  himself,  and  thrust  another  into  the  bard's 
hand,  and  tearing  up  loose  boards  from  the  floor, 
began  to  hack  and  hew  frantically  at  the  timbers 
which,  running  athwart  the  wall,  supported  the  walls 
of  the  sunny  house.  Ronan  imitated  him,  though 
he  could  not  make  out  what  he  was  at,  and  with  a 
few  dozen  hearty  strokes  they  severed  the  two 
main  beams.  With  a  creak  and  a  groan  the  walls 
settled  and  separated  a  little,  until  only  the  stout 
wooden  pegs  that  pinned  the  frame  together  kept 
the  structure  from  falling  apart. 

"Down  now !"  Cathbar  gasped,  and  running  to  the 
window,  first  he  and  then  Ronan  jumped  clear  to 
the  pavement  of  the  dun,  far  below.  It  was  a  feat 


8o  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

for  Ronan;  for  Cathbar,  in  his  old  age,  so  extraor- 
dinary a  piece  of  daring  and  agility  that  the  clans- 
men stopped  in  their  resistance  and  cheered  him. 

He  landed  erect,  although  he  staggered  a  few  paces, 
and  at  once  grasped  a  long  pole,  placed  the  point  of 
it  against  the  inner  wall  of  the  grianan,  and  pushed 
mightily.  Some  hurried  to  help  him.  Others  took 
his  idea  and  brought  other  poles,  and  as  many  of 
the  fighting  men  as  could  be  spared  came  down  from 
the  wall  to  help.  The  veins  leaped  out  on  their  faces 
as  their  strong  backs  bent,  and  their  feet  slipped 
and  shifted  under  the  strain. 

The  building  quivered  and  the  timbers  widened, 
but  their  utmost  efforts  were  still  not  enough  to 
dislodge  it  from  its  place. 

Then  the  women  and  the  children,  too,  came  run- 
ning from  the  houses,  for  they  saw  that  even  a  little 
more  strength  would  turn  the  scale.  The  men 
shouted  at  them  to  go  back,  but  they  came  on  across 
the  open,  dodging  the  falling  arrows  and  sling-stones, 
and,  flinging  their  slight  weight  against  this  pole  or 
that,  called  for  one  more  effort.  The  men  responded ; 
they  pushed  as  if  they  would  lift  the  wall  from  its 
bed.  The  grianan  rocked,  split,  parted,  and  toppled 
bodily  over.  With  one  accord  they  made  for  the 
waU  to  see  what  had  been  accomplished  by  its  fall. 

All  this  time  the  machine  had  kept  steadily  in 
motion  against  the  gate.  Its  blows  had  splintered 
one  leaf  and  broken  it,  although  the  bars  still  held 
the  shattered  pieces  together.  One  more  good  swing 
and  the  breach  would  have  been  made,  but  as  the 


THE  DEFENSE  OF  CATHBAR'S  DUN    81 

ram  leaped  forward  and  crashed  its  way  through, 
the  grianan  above  it  swayed,  slid  forward  a  little, 
and  dissolving  into  a  mere  jumble  of  timbers,  fell 
in  a  mass  on  the  heads  of  the  surprised  assailants. 
Most  of  them  were  caught  and  crushed  under  the 
pile  without  a  chance  of  escape.  The  others  fled 
without  stopping  to  see  how  the  catastrophe  had 
come  about. 

A  moment  elapsed  and  a  movement  was  seen 
among  the  tumbled  beams.  They  heaved  and 
parted,  and  a  yellow-robed  figure  crawled  into  view 
and  raised  himself  painfully  to  his  feet.  He  held  a 
small  iron  mace  in  his  hand,  and  his  form  was  squat 
and  chubby.  He  staggered  a  step  or  two,  and  then, 
catching  up  his  robe,  he  started  to  run  lumberingly 
after  the  retreating  Leinstermen. 

The  observers  on  the  wall  stared  open-mouthed 
after  him,  and  he  had  nearly  reached  the  edge  of 
the  flint-stone  maze  before  they  recognized  him,  or 
rather,  before  they  could  believe  their  eyes,  for  they 
knew  him  at  once. 

"It  is  Eoghan !"  Ronan  shouted.  "Crom  Cruach 
and  the  sacred  Twelve !  What  is  the  fat  fool  about  ? 
He  is  charging  them ! " 

"After  him!"  said  Cathbar.  "Will  you  let  him 
lead  the  way  and  not  follow?  Open  the  gates  and 
after  him!" 

They  threw  open  the  gates,  scrambled  over  the 
ruins,  and  charged  madly  after  the  flying  brehon. 

Eoghan's  speed  increased  as  he  heard  the  noise  of 
running  behind  him.  His  fat  legs  twinkled  under  the 


82  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

saffron  kilts,  and  his  breath  came  in  gasps  through 
his  wide-open  mouth.  He  was  far  in  advance  still 
and  making  his  best  speed  when  one  of  the  retreating 
besiegers  turned  his  head  and,  seeing  his  single  form 
within  reach  and  the  others  so  far  behind,  turned 
and  waited  for  him.  The  brehon  came  on  blindly 
until  he  was  within  spearthrust  of  the  waiting  enemy, 
then  he  faltered  and  swerved  heavily  sideways. 
The  Leinsterman  thrust  too  forcibly,  so  as  to  over- 
balance himself,  and  as  he  stumbled  the  brehon's 
mace  rose  and  fell,  and  the  two  went  down  together, 
their  limbs  tangled  inextricably. 

Cathbar  bellowed  with  rage  when  he  saw  the 
brehon  fall,  and  bounded  on,  his  clansmen  at  his 
heels.  They  had  passed  the  last  of  the  planted 
flints,  and  were  driving  the  fugitives  before  them 
through  their  very  camp,  when  suddenly  the  pur- 
sued turned  and  withstood  them,  and  enemies 
sprang  upon  them  from  behind  every  bush  and  tree. 
The  astute  Leinstermen  had  prolonged  their  flight 
only  to  lead  them  farther  from  the  dun.  They  were 
ambushed,  surrounded,  utterly  cut  off,  doomed. 

It  was  hand  to  hand  now,  and  every  man  for  him- 
self. A  dozen  heroic  struggles  were  going  on  at 
once,  and  a  dozen  times  every  man  of  them,  by 
superhuman  feats,  saved  his  skin.  Arm  to  arm, 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  they  pressed  slowly  backward 
toward  the  gate,  not  daring  to  look  at  the  dun  they 
had  left  undefended  for  fear  of  seeing  the  smoke 
begin  to  rise  already  above  the  wall.  They  knew 
their  fate  would  come  soon.  Their  spears  made  a 


THE  DEFENSE  OF  CATHBAR'S  DUN        83 

thorny  and  a  bristling  hedge  about  them,  but  one 
rush  and  they  would  be  overborne  and  trampled 
down.  None  the  less  they  held  their  lives  at  a 
high  price,  and  were  determined  to  exact  full  pay- 
ment. 

And-  now  the  Leinstermen  make  ready,  and  now 
they  come  on,  pell-mell. 

"Stand  fast,  sons  of  Fiacra!"  Cathbar  exhorted, 
and  he  waved  his  shield  above  his  head. 

But  before  the  swords  clashed  and  the  ranks 
touched  something  seemed  to  numb  the  arms  of  the 
attackers.  A  confused  shouting  came  from  their 
rear,  and  they  pressed  no  longer  but  went  slipping 
off  between  the  trees.  Their  horses  were  flying  over 
the  fields  in  every  direction.  Then  was  heard  the 
thunder  and  rumble  of  many  hoofs  and  wheels,  and 
around  the  corner  of  the  fort  came  rank  after  rank 
of  swaying,  bumping  chariots,  whirling  at  the  full 
speed  of  their  stretched-out,  foam-specked  spans. 
The  besiegers  ran  weaponless  with  outstretched  arms 
before  them,  looking  about  for  refuge. 

A  glad  cry  went  up  from  the  children  of  Fiacra  as 
they  recognized  their  kinsmen  and  rescuers.  The 
horses  sank  back  on  their  haunches,  the  chariots 
slid  to  a  stop,  and  on  all  sides  men  threw  themselves 
into  one  another's  arms. 


CHAPTER  VII 
EOGHAN  THE  READY 

From  the  wall  the  women  had  watched  the  chang- 
ing fortunes  of  the  sally.  Each  blow  that  had  been 
struck  had  shaken  them,  they  had  mourned  each 
man  who  fell.  But  when  rescued  and  rescuers  came 
streaming  back  to  the  dun,  and  they  saw  that  the 
day  was  saved,  they  forgot  their  terrors  and  came 
flocking  down  to  the  gate  to  see  them  enter  in 
triumph. 

First  of  all  came  Cathbar,  leading  by  the  halters 
of  the  horses  a  sumptuous  and  roomy  chariot  occu- 
pied by  an  extraordinary  figure,  a  man  whose 
shrunken  body  and  parchment  skin  spoke  of  age  and 
weakness  beyond  belief.  A  few  bunches  of  white 
hair  clung  to  his  scalp,  a  few  long  wisps  descended 
from  his  chin  nearly  to  his  knees.  His  skin,  crossed 
and  furrowed  by  myriads  of  wrinkles,  hung  loosely 
over  his  great  bones  and  swollen  veins  ran  through 
it  like  mole-hills  in  soft  earth.  He  was  banked  in 
by  cushions  and  robes,  and  crossed  straps  of  soft 
leather  supported  and  steadied  him  in  his  seat.  His 
head  was  bent  on  his  chest,  and  his  arms  rested 
limply  at  his  sides,  but  there  was  fire  smouldering  at 
the  back  of  his  dun  eyes,  and  his  hand  was  clenched 

84 


EOGHAN  THE  READY  85 

on  the  hilt  of  an  ancient  sword  which  he  could  hardly 
have  been  able  to  lift  for  a  generation  past. 

Cathbar  loosened  the  straps  and  lifted  the  wasted 
form  tenderly  to  the  ground. 

"Gods  of  our  people !"  the  Old  Champion  grum- 
bled. "  I  had  sooner  seen  the  dun  burn  than  that  you 
should  have  taken  this  ride.  I  never  thought  that 
you  would  come  yourself.  Are  there  no  trusty 
young  men  of  Fiacra's  house  to  take  the  burden  of 
such  things  from  you?" 

The  patriarch  lifted  his  toothless  lip  in  a  grin,  and 
replied  hi  a  voice  so  thin  and  high-pitched  that  it 
could  barely  be  heard: 

"Once  for  all,  Cathbar,  I  need  no  one  to  bear  my 
burdens  for  me.  Trusty  men !  I  suppose  I  am  not 
trusty  myself!  The  old  man  is  not  too  feeble  yet 
to  lead  the  spearmen  and,  until  he  is,  none  of  these 
boys  shall  come  thrusting  themselves  into  his  place 
and  setting  him  aside.  I  know  them.  They  would 
like  nothing  better  than  to  pretend  that  I  am  grow- 
ing old  and  that  my  vigor  is  failing.  'Back  by  the 
fire,  grandfather,  and  give  up  your  crown  to  another !' 
I  know  them." 

His  eye  wandered  about  the  dun  and  he  went  on 
absently : 

"I  know  this  place.  I  remember  it  well.  It  is 
many  years  ago,  but  I  remember  it.  I  lived  here  in 
fosterage  with  Tuathal.  He  has  a  grandson  who 
will  do  him  credit;  Cathbar  is  his  name — a  strong, 
handsome  boy.  It  is  many  years  ago.  I  forget 
things  sometimes,  but  I  believe  I  remember  things 


86  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

that  happened  here  then  better  than  things  that 
happened  yesterday."  He  hesitated  a  moment,  and 
looked  about  him  uneasily,  searching  for  some  one 
who  was  not  there. 

"I  tell  you,  B  rigid,"  he  resumed  feebly,  "it  is 
warmer  at  Tuathal's  fire  than  here.  I  remember 
being  warm  and  comfortable  there,  but  here  I  am 
cold,  cold,  always  cold,  and  smoke  passes  over  my 
eyes  and  dims  my  sight." 

"Take  him  hi,"  said  Cathbar  solicitously.  "This 
has  been  too  much  for  him." 

"  I  fear  so,"  said  one  of  those  who  stood  by.  "  His 
mind  fails  him  recently,  and  he  talks  to  his  wife  as 
if  she  were  alive  beside  him.  It  is  weird  to  hear 
him." 

"It  is  so  with  old  men,"  said  Mesgedra.  "It 
would  have  been  better  to  have  left  him  at  home. 
He  is  not  strong  enough  for  many  such  rides." 

"You  do  not  know  our  old  king.  Even  to-day 
no  one  dares  resist  his  will,  and  he  will  trust  no  one 
except  Cathbar  to  lead  his  fighting  men.  When 
Cathbar  is  not  by,  he  will  take  the  field  himself  in 
spite  of  what  we  say." 

"Has  he  no  tanist  to  help  him?" 

"I  was  his  tanist,"  Cathbar  answered,  "until  a 
splinter  robbed  me  of  the  sight  of  my  eye  and,  being 
so  blemished,  I  had  to  give  it  up.  Since  then  no 
one  has  been  chosen  in  my  place,  for  he  has  become 
very  jealous  of  his  dignity,  and  thinks  that  even  the 
choosing  of  a  successor  hurts  his  power  in  some  way. 
It  is  an  old  man's  fancy,  but  we  give  way  to  him,  of 


EOGHAN  THE  READY  87 

course.  Still  he  is  not  apt  to  last  long,  and  when 
he  dies  we  will  wish,  I  suppose,  that  we  had  settled 
it  in  his  lifetime." 

"There  is  always  trouble  and  quarrelling  over 
choosing  a  new  chief,  unless  it  is  done  leisurely, 
during -the  life  of  the  last  one,"  Mesgedra  agreed. 
He  pursed  his  lips  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down. 
"You  have  other  sons  than  Conal?"  he  said  at 
last. 

"One  other,  Ferdiad.    A  good  boy,  too." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"At  Cruachan,  as  a  hostage  to  the  Connaughtmen 
that  we  will  keep  the  truce  we  have  sworn  with 
them." 

Mesgedra  nodded,  as  if  pleased. 

"You  still  have  the  good  will  of  the  clan?" 

"You  saw  how  they  fought  for  me." 

"Conal,  too,  will  be  well  thought  of  now." 

"No  doubt,  no  doubt.  They  are  proud  of  the 
way  he  stood  up  for  our  name  and  rights." 

"Old  Hero,"  said  Mesgedra,  "it  is  my  advice  that 
you  send  out  to  the  borders  of  the  tuath  and  call 
all  the  flaiths  of  the  clan  together  to  a  feast  on  some 
set  day.  Those  who  are  here  can  be  detained  on 
the  excuse  that  you  fear  the  Leinstermen  will  return 
in  force.  Ronan  must  go  back  to  Tailtenn  and  see 
if  anything  has  been  heard  of  Conal.  If  we  act 
cautiously  and  make  no  blunder,  I  see  a  way  to 
bring  things  right,  perhaps." 

"I  see  you  have  a  plan,"  exclaimed  Cathbar  in 
open  admiration.  "Ah,  Mesgedra,  if  I  had  not 


88  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

seen  you  in  battle,  I  would  not  believe  that  a  man 
could  be  good  with  both  hands  and  head.  I  leave 
it  to  you;  only  remember,  when  fighting  is  to  be 
done,  I  am  to  have  my  share." 

"That  you  shall,"  said  Mesgedra,  in  high  good 
humor  at  the  compliment,  "for  I  grow  fat  with  much 
thinking,  and  I  do  not  swing  a  spear  as  I  did  twenty 
years  since — while  time  has  not  changed  you  at  all." 

They  prodded  one  another  merrily,  and  stepped 
aside  to  allow  a  litter  to  be  carried  through  the  gate. 
A  body  was  stretched  on  it,  and  they  recognized 
the  yellow  robes  and  rotund  figure  of  the  brehon 
Eoghan.  A  score  of  willing  hands  were  struggling 
for  a  share  of  the  burden,  and  as  the  litter  passed 
men  of  the  garrison  told  those  of  the  rescue  party 
how  Eoghan  had  led  the  way  against  the  enemy. 

"He  leaped  down  from  the  wall  on  their  heads, 
and  chased  them  till  they  howled  for  quarter. 
Then  he  fought  with  a  giant,  was  stabbed  seven 
times.  Oh,  no  doubt  he  is  dead — but  it  was  a 
gallant  thing;  brave  beyond  measure." 

A  dozen  versions  of  the  story  were  going  on  at 
once. 

"It  will  hurt  me  to  the  heart,  if  that  brave  fellow 
has  found  death,"  exclaimed  Cathbar.  "It  is  not 
often  that  one  is  before  me  in  charging.  He  bore 
himself  in  a  way  that  would  have  done  credit  to 
one  of  Niall's  old  warriors.  You  said  well  that  he 
was  worth  a  dozen  men." 

"I  was  joking  when  I  said  that,"  Mesgedra  ad- 
mitted penitently,  "for  I  thought  he  was  of  a  cow- 


EOGHAN  THE  READY  89 

ardly  nature.  But  in  truth  he  made  amends  to-day 
if  he  ever  failed  before,  for  I  never  saw  a  man  die 
in  more  knightly  fashion." 

Inside  the  gate  the  litter  bearers  put  down  their 
load.  At  once  the  brehon  sat  upright,  swung  his 
legs  over  the  side  of  the  litter,  and  blinked  owlishly 
at  the  bystanders. 

"By  the  favor  of  Bel !    He  is  unhurt !" 

"Unhurt!"  cried  the  brehon  indignantly,  "It  is 
easy  for  you  to  say  unhurt!  Look  at  me,  unhappy 
man  that  I  am !  There  is  not  a  whole  bone  in  me; 
and  see  my  cloak,  torn  to  rags;  and  my  mace,  where 
is  it?  Show  me  the  man  who  played  that  trick  on 
me,  and  I  will  fast  on  him  until  he  is  a  mass  of 
boils  from  head  to  heels." 

"He  is  raving,"  muttered  the  clansmen  compas- 
sionately. "A  blow  on  the  head  has  dazed  him." 

"I  tell  you  I  will  find  him  out,"  continued  the 
brehon  furiously,  "and  proceed  against  him  with  the 
rigor  of  the  law.  It  is  no  light  thing  to  hurl  a  man 
from  the  housetop,  pursue  him  with  weapons,  and 
drive  chariots  over  his  body.  If  there  is  justice  in 
Eirinn,  or  respect  for  the  law,  he  shall  pay  in  gold 
and  cattle,  cloaks,  and  fine  armor." 

Mesgedra  caught  Ronan's  eye,  and  a  look  of  mirth- 
ful intelligence  came  in  his  face. 

"Eoghan,"  he  said  gravely,  "leave  off  speaking  of 
your  wrongs,  while  right  is  done  you.  Famous  as 
you  were  before,  your  bravery  and  readiness  have 
been  shown  anew  to-day.  The  walls  of  the  dun  were 
not  as  high  as  your  brave  spirit.  Single-handed  you 


go  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

charged  the  Leinstermen,  and  they  fled  before  you. 
Hereafter  a  new  name  shall  be  given  you— Luasach, 
The  Ready  One,  for  the  promptness  with  which  you 
sprang  upon  the  enemy  and  the  speed  with  which 
you  attacked  them." 

The  brehon  stared  during  the  first  words,  and 
opened  his  mouth  once  or  twice  to  speak,  but  as 
Mesgedra  ended,  and  he  heard  the  murmur  of  hearty 
approval  that  ran  through  the  crowd,  his  expression 
changed,  and  he  swelled  visibly.  His  pursy  face 
took  on  a  look  of  modest  deprecation. 

"Not  so!  Not  so!"  he  protested.  "Whatever 
his  deeds  may  be,  it  is  not  fitting  for  a  brehon  to  be 
notorious  as  a  man  of  might  and  valor.  Learning 
and  wisdom  are  my  trade — exploits  of  arms  are  only 
for  my  moments  of  leisure." 

"None  the  less  you  shall  be  called  Eoghan  The 
Ready,  be'it  for  your  feats  of  valor  or  for  your  fluent 
eloquence,  and,  lest  your  courage  lead  you  into  diffi- 
culties, I  put  geasa  on  you  never  again  to  fight  more 
than  six  men  at  a  tune  or  to  go  more  than  five  leaps 
ahead  of  your  supporters." 

Ronan  gulped  and  snickered,  but  the  clansmen 
shouted  and  rattled  their  shields  in  approval,  and 
the  brehon,  receiving  graciously  the  compliments 
that  were  thrust  on  him,  made  his  way  into  the  hall 
of  the  dun,  his  tatters  of  saffron  trailing  regally  be- 
hind him. 

Meantime  the  blood  of  cattle  was  flowing  where 
the  blood  of  men  had  wet  the  ground  so  short  a 
tune  before.  There  was  not  a  caldron  in  the  dun 


EOGHAN  THE  READY  91 

without  a  fire  beneath  it,  not  a  cask  of  mead  or  ale 
that  was  not  staved. 

They  divided  that  night  hi  to  three  parts:  one  for 
feasting  and  drinking;  one  for  retelling  the  story  of 
the  siege  and  singing  the  praises  of  the  victors;  the 
third  for  rest  and  the  sound  slumber  of  warriors 
after  battle. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  BROKEN  CLAN 

The  brave  horse,  though  spent  and  tired,  still  ran 
willingly.  His  hoofs  sank  deep  in  the  spongy  mould 
at  every  bound,  the  soaking  leaves  slapped  his  wet 
sides  and  clung  as  if  to  hold  him,  and  the  dangling 
traces,  cut  hastily  in  taking  him  from  the  shafts, 
napped  about  his  legs,  enough  to  have  driven  him 
half  wild  with  nervousness  another  time,  but  he 
kept  on  doggedly,  for  he  was  too  road-weary  to 
start  or  shy. 

Conal  had  long  ago  lost  his  way.  For  hours  he 
had  been  riding  aimlessly  onward  through  the  thick 
woods,  content  that  he  was  leaving  Tailtenn  behind 
him.  He  had  seen  no  one,  heard  nothing.  He  was 
confident  that  he  had  eluded  pursuit,  if  pursuit  had 
been  made. 

As  his  passion  cooled  and  he  began  to  consider 
his  position,  he  found  himself  completely  at  a  loss. 
The  alternatives  which  occurred  to  him  were  few, 
and  none  of  them  wholly  satisfactory.  He  could  go 
home;  but  there,  if  anywhere,  search  would  be  made 
for  him.  Cathbar,  he  knew  would  stand  by  him, 
but  his  chance  of  reaching  the  dun  without  capture 
was  small.  He  could  lie  hidden  for  a  time;  but 
where?  And  how  long  a  time  must  pass  before  it 

92 


THE  BROKEN  CLAN  93 

would  be  safe  to  venture  out  again?  He  could 
leave  Eirinn,  but  he  knew  not  in  what  direction  to 
seek  the  sea,  and  his  heart  failed  at  the  thought  of 
exile — perhaps  for  a  lifetime. 

He  thought  of  the  promise  his  youth  had  held 
for  him.,  of  his  happy  fosterage,  the  pride  of  taking 
arms,  the  joy  of  journeying  forth  a  man;  he  thought 
of  the  honors  he  had  hoped  to  win,  of  the  rank  and 
power  to  which  he  might,  not  without  reason,  have 
aspired;  of  all  these,  his  yesterday,  lost  to-day  for 
the  sake  of  a  seat  at  a  feast. 

He  thought  of  Etain,  too,  her  tantalizing  coquetry, 
and  the  flaming  sincerity  which  lay  behind  it. 
What  hope  had  he  of  seeing  her  again  ?  The  pleas- 
ant playtime  of  his  lif e  was  past — his  high  place 
and  consideration  forfeited. 

Not  that  he  regretted  the  act  which  had  cost  him 
these  losses — his  blood  flamed  again  at  the  thought 
of  Firbis's  taunts — but  it  seemed  hard  that  circum- 
stances of  place  and  tune  had  turned  so  simple  a 
matter  as  the  mortal  revenge  of  a  mortal  insult  into 
an  unpardonable  offense. 

Then  he  thought  of  Mesgedra,  the  wise  and  kindly, 
who  for  the  past  week  had  played  the  part  of  friend 
and  mentor  to  him.  Brave,  true-hearted,  fond  of  a 
good-natured  jest  and  a  pleasant  cup  among  friends, 
sage,  experienced,  ready  of  resource  and  sound  coun- 
sel, who,  so  well  as  he,  could  solve  the  tangle  of 
Conal's  plight  and  suggest  the  course  that  would 
save  him  from  the  vengeance  of  Leinster? 

With  quick  relief,  he  decided  to  make  a  round- 


94  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

about  way  to  the  bruden  and  put  himself  in  Mes- 
gedra's  hands.  At  least  he  could  see  Etain  once 
more  before  he  left  Eirinn  behind  him,  if  the  brugaid 
had  no  other  advice  to  give  and  go  he  must.  But 
first  it  was  necessary  to  seek  shelter  for  the  night, 
and  food  for  himself  and  his  horse  and,  above  all 
things,  to  readjust  his  harness  lest  he  might  be  sus- 
pected of  having  stolen  the  valuable  animal,  for  it 
could  easily  be  seen  that  it  had  been  taken  from  a 
chariot. 

He  dismounted  in  an  open  space  and,  by  the  fail- 
ing light,  cut  away  the  traces,  and  made  such  changes 
as  suggested  themselves  hi  the  halter  and  the  set  of 
the  back-cloth.  It  was  some  time  before  he  did 
this  to  his  satisfaction,  for  his  fingers  were  cold  and 
numb,  and  he  was  forced,  more  than  once,  to  begin 
again.  An  uneasy  instinct,  some  feeling  of  being 
overlooked,  made  him  raise  his  head  suddenly.  He 
had  been  silently  surrounded  by  a  number  of  sav- 
age, ragged  men,  who  leaned  on  their  rude  spears  and 
looked  at  him  critically. 

"These  fellows  mean  no  good,  coming  up  so 
quietly,"  thought  Conal,  and  he  brought  his  sword- 
hilt  sharply  under  his  hand  and  slipped  a  fold  of  his 
cloak  over  his  forearm. 

The  strangers  nodded  and  nudged  one  another, 
but  said  nothing,  and  Conal  was  determined  that 
they  should  give  first  indication  of  their  intentions; 
so  they  stood  in  silence  for  some  moments. 

At  length,  at  a  barely  perceptible  signal  from  his 
fellows,  one  of  the  strangers  spoke: 


THE  BROKEN  CLAN  95 

"You  are  a  flaith,  young  champion,  and  I  can  easily 
guess  of  some  rich  family.  I  wonder  that  a  man  of 
your  rank  should  travel  in  these  lonely  places  with- 
out attendants." 

"I  travel  as  I  please,  but,  since  you  ask  it,  there 
are  meH  following  who  will  be  here  soon  enough," 
answered  Conal  prudently. 

The  stranger  laughed  quietly  and,  pointing  over 
his  shoulder  with  his  thumb,  went  on  in  a  less  abrupt 
tone. 

"Our  dwelling  is  yonder,  such  as  it  is.  When  we 
saw  you  coming  alone  we  thought  it  likely  you  had 
lost  your  way.  This  is  an  out-of-the-way  place, 
with  no  guest-houses  near;  so,  if  you  like,  you  can 
spend  the  night  by  our  fire.  We  killed  a  sheep 
to-day,  and  there  is  grain  for  the  horse  as  well. 
After  eating,  we  have  something  to  ask  of  you." 

"The  loan  of  my  gold  collar,  no  doubt,"  thought 
Conal.  "I  like  your  looks  little,  but  you  are  twelve 
to  one,  and  will  take  me  whether  I  go  willingly  or 
not,  and  I  may  as  well  consent  cheerfully  and  eat 
while  I  can." 

"Your  offer  is  a  very  kindly  one,"  he  said  aloud, 
"and  I  will  accept  it  gladly,  for  there  is  geasa  on 
me  never  to  refuse  a  feast." 

The  strangers  shouldered  their  spears,  and  one 
of  them,  with  quiet  assurance,  took  the  horse  by 
the  halter  and  led  him  hi  advance.  They  walked 
rapidly  through  the  forest,  Conal  in  their  midst, 
and,  after  climbing  a  stiff  slope,  came  out  in  the  open 
again  on  a  rocky  shelf  commanding  a  view  of  a 


96  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

broad  expanse  of  country.  A  cleft  in  the  hillside 
was  lit  up  with  dancing  firelight,  and  the  odor  of 
cooking  drifted  out  to  them.  They  entered  a  dry 
and  roomy  cavern  and,  disposing  themselves  on  the 
ground,  shared  their  rustic  meal. 

Over  their  mutton  and  oat-cakes  the  strangers 
watched  Conal  narrowly.  They  talked  little,  but 
exchanged  understanding  looks  and  gestures  so  often 
that  Conal  felt  that  they  were  appraising  him  for 
some  deeper  purpose  than  mere  robbery,  and  he  was 
glad  when  the  last  of  the  food  disappeared  and  their 
spokesman  seemed  inclined  to  open  the  subject 
which  was  on  their  minds. 

"It  is  a  great  honor  for  us,"  he  began,  "to  have  a 
noble  flaith  sharing  our  meal,  humble  men  that  we 
are — for  I  remember  you  said  you  were  a  flaith." 

The  whole  ruffianly  crew  bent  forward  a  little,  as 
if  his  answer  were  of  the  greatest  importance,  while 
the  fellow  who  had  spoken  endeavored  to  put  on  a 
careless  and  hearty  air,  to  indicate  that  he  was  not 
greatly  concerned  in  the  answer,  nor  cared  overmuch 
whether  a  reply  was  given  at  all. 

"I  am  a  flaith,  certainly,"  said  Conal  guardedly. 

"It  can  easily  be  told  from  your  speech  and  bear- 
ing, and  I  venture  to  guess  you  are  of  some  powerful 
clan,  and  a  man  of  importance  despite  your  youth." 

"What  can  he  be  after?"  Conal  thought.  "If  I 
tell  him  I  am  a  person  of  consequence  and  of  a 
strong  sept,  he  may  be  afraid  of  their  vengeance 
and  let  me  go.  On  the  other  hand,  he  may  hold  me 
for  ransom." 


THE  BROKEN  CLAN  97 

"My  clan  is  greater  than  some,  and  less  than 
others,"  he  answered  at  length. 

"I  should  say  that  you  were  on  your  way  to  join 
the  High  King  at  Inver  Colptha,"  the  other  con- 
tinued. "Perhaps  you  are  one  of  Dathi's  officers, 
and  have  influence  with  the  monarch." 

"That  may  be  so  or  not,"  said  Conal  a  little  im- 
patiently. "It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  getting 
more  than  you  are  giving.  Before  I  tell  any  more 
of  myself,  do  you  tell  me  what  manner  of  men  you 
are  who  live  in  this  waste  place  and  are  so  hospitable 
to  travellers." 

"I  fear  our  rank  can  be  guessed  as  easily  as 
your  own.  We  are  fudhirs,  landless  men,  a  broken 
clan." 

"That  is  a  grave  misfortune,"  said  Conal,  cautious 
of  giving  offense. 

"We  have  found  it  so  indeed,  but  lest  you  think 
more  hardly  of  us  than  we  deserve,  I  will  tell  you 
something  of  our  story." 

He  paused  and  looked  at  the  ground,  while  a 
proud  and  rebellious  look  passed  over  his  wild  fea- 
tures. 

"Except  for  a  few  women  and  children  who  are 
scattered  in  distant  hiding-places/'  he  went  on 
gloomily,  "you  see  before  you  the  miserable  remnant 
of  the  Children  of  the  Raven. 

"Up  to  nine  years  ago  we  were  a  small  clan  but 
prosperous,  holding  land  on  the  borders  of  Con- 
naught  and  Leinster.  Our  chief  was  brave  and 
generous  and  because  of  his  virtues  the  gods  loaded 


98  THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

r>v  •  '  ^  with  fruit  and  ou*  t^oiLS  and  herds  in- 
01  eased  year  by  year. 

"We  had  powerful  neighbors  who  fought  among 
themselves,  and  sought  jealously  to  increase  their 
own  power  and  importance.  They  would  have  had 
us  take  gifts  of  them  and  come  under  their  rule, 
but  we  trusted  in  justice  and  refused  them. 

"Then  came  the  great  wars  when  Dathi  strove 
with  his  cousins  for  the  kingship.  The  armies 
fought  about  us  and  over  us,  but  we  kept  on  in  our 
peaceful  way,  for  we  could  not  see  that  one  of  them 
had  more  right  than  another,  and  we  only  wished 
that  the  quarrel  would  be  settled  so  that  we  could 
honor  the  High  King,  as  the  laws  command,  with- 
out fear  that  the  honor  we  paid  one  king  to-day 
would  count  against  us  with  his  rival  to-morrow. 
But  the  tribes  of  Leinster  took  one  side,  and  the  tribes 
of  Connaught  the  other,  and  between  them  we  were 
ground  as  a  stone  is  ground  under  a  man's  heel. 
None  the  less  we  inclined  to  neither,  but  tended  our 
fields. 

"Both  sides  threatened  us.  One  night  our  chief's 
dun  was  stormed  and  every  one  within  it  put  to  the 
sword  without  mercy.  Fire  was  set  to  the  thatch 
and  stack,  and  our  cattle  were  driven  off  to  the  hills. 
We  went  to  throw  ourselves  at  the  King's  feet,  but 
we  had  no  chief  to  answer  for  us.  Our  enemies 
entered  on  our  lands,  and  now  for  all  these  years 
we  have  lived  the  life  of  outlaws  and  homeless 
wanderers." 

"That  is  a  sad  tale!"  cried  Conal,  with  ready 


THE  BROKEN  CLAN  99 

sympathy.  "A  heavy  curse  on  the  clan  that 
wronged  you,  whoever  they  may  have  been!" 

"Lately  we  have  found  our  lot  more  and  more 
desperate.  We  are  hunted  from  place  to  place,  and 
are  barely  able,  by  threat  and  force,  to  wring  a  miser- 
able existence  from  dwellers  in  unprotected  places; 
and  word  has  come  to  us  from  friendly  mouths  that 
soon  the  king  of  this  territory  will  move  against  us. 
Our  wanderings  must  begin  again;  once  more  we 
must  seek  some  wild  corner  where  we  can  live  un- 
disturbed; and  all  this  comes  upon  us  because  we 
have  no  chief." 

"  It  would  be  easy  for  you  to  put  yourselves  under 
some  chief's  protection." 

"Yes,  if  we  were  willing  to  forget  our  freedom  and 
former  happiness  and  become  bondmen,"  replied  the 
stranger  fiercely,  "but  that  we  have  sworn  not  to 
do.  We  will  enter  no  stranger's  clan  except  as  free- 
men and  sharers  in  the  lands." 

"  How  can  you  hope  for  that  ?  It  is  hard  that  you 
should  suffer  without  fault,  but  such  is  the  custom 
of  the  men  of  Eirinn,  and  no  clan  will  take  in 
strangers  on  equal  terms  with  themselves.  Why 
should  they?" 

"It  is  indeed  too  much  to  expect.  Yet  we  have 
thought  that  it  would  be  to  the  advantage  of  some 
ambitious  young  flaith  to  use  his  interest  in  our 
behalf.  A  little  land  that  he  would  never  miss 
would  give  homes  to  us  all,  a  few  cattle  from  his 
herd  would  be  a  fortune  to  us,  and  in  return  he  would 
gain  followers  pledged  to  him  till  death.  Look  at 


ioo         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

us.  We  are  fourteen,  skilled  in  arms,  used  to  hard- 
ship and  danger.  With  such  men  as  we  to  back  him, 
a  flaith  might  rise  to  be  an  aire,  or  an  aire  to  a 
throne.  Any  man  might  be  glad  to  have  such  fol- 
lowers, young  champion." 

"I  trust  you  will  find  such  a  chief,"  replied  Conal. 
"I  myself  would  be  glad  to  speak  for  you  to  some 
I  know.  But  there  are  difficulties  which  need  not  be 
spoken  of — at  any  rate,  you  have  my  warm  wishes." 

"If  I  have  told  you  our  story,"  said  the  outlaw 
deliberately,  "it  was  not  that  you  should  pass  us 
on  to  some  other  as  an  unvalued  gift  is  passed  on. 
Why  should  you  yourself  not  show  kindness  to  us? 
We^have  weighed  you  and  think  well  of  you^and 
we  are  ready  to  forswear  our  name  and  take  yours, 
if  you  say  the  word.  We  will  be  your  men  against 
any  enemy,  though  it  be  the  High  King  himself." 

"If  you  knew  to  whom  you  were  speaking,"  said 
Conal  a  little  bitterly,  "I  would  think  your  offer 
fair  enough.  But  my  service  has  little  in  it  to  tempt 
any  one  to  it.  You  seek  peace  and  protection,  and 
a  share  of  lands  and  cattle,  while  I  am  chiefly  rich 
in  enemies,  and  if  I  told  you  how  I  had  gotten  them, 
you  would  leave  me  here  alone,  or,  more  likely,  hand 
me  over  to  them." 

"I  mean  what  I  say,"  said  the  outlaw  proudly. 
"Our  chief's  enemies  will  be  ours.  If  you  doubt  us, 
try  our  faith.  If  you  will  be  our  chief  we  will  take 
the  blood-oath  here  and  now,  and  then  you  can  tell 
us  who  are  your  enemies,  and  see  if  we  shrink  at 
their  names." 


THE  BROKEN  CLAN  101 

"  By  the  oath  of  my  people ! "  Conal  cried.  "  Your 
confidence  is  as  pleasant  to  me  as  new  mead.  You 
have  given  me  your  story  and  why  should  I  not 
trust  you  with  mine?  In  truth,  then,  I  am  not, 
though  I  was  yesterday,  the  rich  and  powerful  noble 
you  take  me  to  be.  I  am,  like  yourselves,  an  out- 
law. I  am  fleeing  for  my  life,  and  I  do  not  yet  know 
whether  I  have  gotten  away  safely  from  my  pur- 
suers and  avoided  the  bloody  punishment  which 
will  surely  be  mine  if  I  am  taken.  Every  man  is 
my  enemy  who  regards  the  law,  and  especially  every 
man  of  Leinster." 

"And  how  have  you  come  to  this  pass  ?  "  asked  the 
outlaw  without  emotion. 

"On  account  of  my  slaying  a  certain  noble  who 
offended  me.  He  was  powerful  among  the  people 
of  Leinster,  and  they  will  never  rest  till  I  am  taken 
and  put  to  death." 

"Young  as  you  are,  you  know  the  law  better  than 
that.  You  have  only  to  put  yourself  in  sanctuary 
and  offer  compensation.  Why,  there  is  enough 
gold  in  your  collar  and  bunne-do-at  to  pay  eric  and 
honor  price  thrice  over,  though  his  rank  were  as 
high  as  the  king  of  a  province.  Do  not  trifle  with 
us  or  attempt  to  put  us  off  with  weak  excuses,  for 
look  you,  you  are  here  in  our  power  and  we  have 
sworn  that  you  leave  this  place  as  our  chief,  or  stay 
here  a  corpse." 

He  looked  at  Conal  so  malevolently  that  the  boy 
felt  assured  that  he  meant  no  less  than  he  said.  He 
felt  a  quick  impulse  to  spring  to  his  feet  and  defy 


102          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

them,  but  reason  told  him  that  he  must  tempo- 
rize. 

"I  do  not  speak  to  deceive  you.  There  is  no  eric 
for  that  slaying.  I  killed  him  at  Tailtenn,  in  the 
midst  of  the  fair." 

The  suspicion  in  the  fudhir's  face  gave  way  to 
amazement.  He  stared  incredulous  for  a  single  in- 
stant, then  he  glanced  rapidly  around  the  cave  and 
seemed  to  get  some  desired  assurance  from  the  faces 
of  his  comrades. 

"You  say  well  that  you  are  in  as  bad  a  case  as 
we,"  he  exclaimed.  "But  the  man  who  did  that 
deed  is  all  the  more  a  chief  for  us.  Lands  and  cattle 
are  very  good  things,  but  more  than  all  it  is  good  for 
men  to  have  a  chief  whom  they  can  respect.  While 
we  thought  you  a  rich  and  worthless  young  lord  we 
were  willing  to  accept  you  for  a  leader  for  the  sake 
of  comfort.  Now  we  are  willing  to  brave  hardship 
again  for  the  sake  of  having  such  a  chief.  It  is  all 
the  same.  There  are  lands  enough  and  herds  enough 
in  this  island  of  ours  for  a  band  of  desperate  men, 
led  by  such  a  one  as  you,  to  make  themselves  feared 
if  not  famous.  There  is  my  hand.  If  you  will  lead 
us  we  will  follow  you." 

"I  will  keep  faith  with  you,  I  swear  it!"  cried 
Conal,  grasping  hi  turn  the  hand  of  each  of  the 
outlaws.  They  drew  their  daggers  and,  opening 
their  arms,  let  their  blood  mingle  while  they  swore 
oaths  of  fidelity.  Then  with  solemn  formality,  the 
fudhirs  invested  him,  putting  the  white  rod  in  his 
hand,  turning  him  three  times  with  the  sun  and  three 


THE  BROKEN  CLAN  103 

times  against  it,  and  observing  all  the  customary 
rites  as  minutely  as  if  the  clan  had  mustered  four- 
teen hundred,  not  fourteen.  The  ceremony  over, 
they  prepared  a  bed  for  him,  bade  him  sleep  well, 
and  left  him  alone  in  the  cave. 

For^  a  long  time  he  lay  and  watched  the  fire  burn 
low.  His  mind  was  dazzled.  The  outlaw's  words 
had  opened  to  him  the  vision  of  a  lawless  pre- 
eminence; of  lands  and  lordship  won  by  the  sword 
and  held  by  it.  He  saw  in  fancy  how  all  the  out- 
laws of  the  kingdom  would  flock  to  his  side,  how 
every  broken  clan  would  own  him  chief  and  claim 
his  protection,  serving  him  with  their  bodies  in  re- 
turn for  a  share  of  the  spoil  their  arms  would  win 
for  him.  He  saw  himself  ruling  among  his  un- 
tamed bands,  feared  by  those  who  feared  no  one 
else,  laughing  at  the  law  and  the  baffled  Leinster- 
men. 

But  other  ambitions  fought  with  these — dreams 
that  he  had  long  cherished  and  was  loath  to  dismiss, 
dreams  of  a  tune  to  come  when  clean  fame  and 
knightly  distinction  were  to  raise  his  name  to  the 
level  of  old  heroes  in  songs.  Then,  too,  the  new 
dream  that  lately  had  thrust  the  others  into  second 
place,  that  was  compounded  of  white  dun  walls, 
new  built,  and  the  bright  painted  sides  of  a  new 
grianan,  with  a  girl,  bronze-haired  and  clear-eyed, 
leaning  out  to  look  for  him  as  he  came  riding  out 
of  the  forest.  Strongest  of  all,  perhaps,  was  the 
innate  reverence  for  immemorial  law,  the  lifelong 
schooling  in  respect  for  the  wisdom  of  ancient  cus- 


104         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

torn,  which  stood  like  a  barrier  between  him  and  the 
new  life  that  tempted  him. 

The  decision  was  not  made  when  weariness  over- 
came him  and  he  passed  off  to  sleep. 

The  sun  was  bright  when  he  awoke  and  came  out 
of  the  cave.  The  fresh  morning  air  whisked  briskly 
in  his  face  around  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain, 
and  drove  away  drowsiness  like  a  dash  of  cold  water. 

One  of  his  new  clansmen  was  standing  sentry  at 
the  entrance  to  the  cavern.  The  others  were  sitting 
quietly  at  a  little  distance,  waiting  for  him  to  ap- 
pear. A  tattered  cloak  had  been  spread  on  a  smooth 
rock  and  food  was  set  out  on  it  for  him.  As  he 
came  out  they  rose  and  saluted  him  respectfully, 
and  one,  who  held  his  spear  and  sword,  newly 
cleaned  and  shining,  came  forward  and  put  them  in 
his  hands.  Every  look  and  gesture  showed  Conal 
then*  new  attitude  to  him.  With  a  strange  thrill, 
he  realized  that  to  these  men  he  was  now  their  chief, 
invested  with  the  fulness  of  that  almost  sacred  char- 
acter. For  all  his  youth,  his  wish  was  their  will; 
his  approval  their  standard  of  good;  his  comfort 
their  chief  anxiety.  They  might  go  hungry,  but  he 
must  be  satisfied,  and  they  were  pleased  that  it 
should  be  so. 

Before  beginning  his  meal  he  went  to  the  edge  of 
the  platform  and  looked  out  over  the  country  be- 
low him.  The  dark  forest  stretched  away  to  right 
and  left  in  an  endless  carpet  of  tangled  boughs. 
Before  him  it  ended  abruptly  at  the  bank  of  a  wide 
river,  and  beyond  the  river  fields  began,  sprinkled 


THE  BROKEN  CLAN  105 

with  ponds  and  tufts  of  trees,  and  crossed  by  a 
buff  ribbon  of  curving  highway. 

"What  stream  is  that?"  he  asked  idly. 

"It  is  the  Boyne,  my  chief." 

"And  how  far  are  we  from  where  it  enters  the  sea  ?  " 

"Less,  than  two  days'  journey." 

ConaJ*  remembered  what  they  had  told  him  at 
the  fair:  "From  the  mouth  of  the  Boyne,  Dathi's 
ships  sail  for  Gaul." 

Of  a  sudden  his  doubts  were  blown  from  his  mind, 
his  resolution  was  made. 

"Sons  of  the  Raven,"  he  said,  "I  have  thought 
much  of  what  we  said  last  night.  It  is  not  right 
that  we  should  be  ravagers  of  our  own  country  and 
enemies  of  all,  like  those  men  who,  of  old,  slew 
Conaire  the  High  King.  There  is  righting  to  be 
done  in  far  countries,  and  riches  there  for  those  who 
are  not  afraid.  Perhaps  if  we  do  our  part  well  we 
may  all  win  pardon.  Is  it  not  better  for  us  to  go 
with  the  High  King  to  Gaul,  and  use  our  arms 
against  strangers  instead  of  Gaels?" 

His  followers  looked  at  him  with  indifferent  ac- 
quiescence. 

"That  is  as  the  chief  pleases,"  they  said  in  chorus. 

Again  Conal  felt  sharply  the  readjustment  that 
had  taken  place.  His  clansmen  no  longer  felt  that 
thought  or  care  on  their  part  was  necessary  or  de- 
sirable. He  was  chief,  let  him  decide.  As  supreme 
among  his  fourteen  followers  as  the  king  of  his  own 
tuath  among  his  hundreds  of  spearmen,  on  his 
shoulders  lay  the  responsibility  for  their  welfare. 


io6         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

He  must  think  for  them  and,  in  return,  he  knew 
they  would  follow  him  to  death. 

"Better  for  them;  better  for  me,"  he  muttered. 
"If  they  return,  the  High  King  will  provide  for 
them;  for  myself,  I  must  take  my  chance." 

He  unbound  his  hair  and  took  the  fragile  gold 
balls  from  among  the  locks,  and,  after  some  con- 
sideration, added  a  bracelet  to  the  handful. 

"Let  some  of  you  hurry  to  the  road,"  he  com- 
manded, "and  wait  for  merchants  returning  from 
the  fan*.  Buy  new  spears  and  shields  of  them, 
enough  for  all,  and  all  of  the  same  pattern;  cloaks, 
too,  if  they  can  be  gotten,  and  a  horse  rod;  but  do 
not  buy  all  from  one  man,  or  show  too  much  gold 
at  a  tune.  If  they  speak  of  Conal  mac  Shanleh, 
listen  to  what  they  say,  and  remember  it." 

By  noon  the  messengers  returned  with  the  things 
they  had  sought.  They  brought  news  also  that 
word  had  come  from  the  fair  that  Conal  was  surely 
in  his  father's  dun,  and  that  all  the  Leinstermen 
had  hurried  there  to  take  him,  led  by  one  Mesgedra, 
keeper  of  the  King's  guest-house  on  the  road  of 
Meath. 

Conal  shook  his  head  over  the  last  piece  of  news. 

"It  is  the  way  of  the  world,"  he  thought  soberly. 
"But  I  did  think  Mesgedra  my  friend.  Yesterday 
I  should  have  despaired  at  hearing  it.  To-day  I 
can  laugh  at  it.  I  have  others  to  depend  on  than 
Mesgedra.  But  Etain— I  wonder " 

It  was  with  a  sober  face  that  he  mounted  his 
horse  and  took  the  road  along  the  bank  of  the  Boyne. 


THE  BROKEN  CLAN  107 

The  second  day  they  came  out  on  the  hills  above 
the  river  mouth.  Below  them  Dathi's  fleet  lay  at 
anchor,  a  countless  profusion  of  minute  black  dots 
on  the  blue  waters  of  the  bay.  Up  from  the  valley 
came  a  confused  uproar,  mingled  of  the  clang  of 
hammers  on  a  thousand  anvils,  the  crack  and  crash 
of  falling  trees,  and  all  the  noise  of  the  hundred 
activities  of  that  busy  arsenal.  The  smoke  of 
forges  and  furnaces  hung  and  drifted  among  the 
tree  tops.  Long  trams  of  pack-animals  came  and 
went  from  the  countryside;  huge  barges  floated  in 
endless  procession  down  the  bosom  of  the  Boyne. 

As  they  descended  into  the  valley,  the  sun's  rim 
touched  the  horizon.  Reluctantly  the  clamor  died 
and  ended.  A  hoarse  challenge  halted  them,  and 
their  ears  were  assailed  by  the  barking  of  innumera- 
ble dogs. 


CHAPTER  IX 
DULL  DAYS  AT  TARA 

The  more  Etain  thought  of  it,  the  more  angry 
she  grew;  the  more  her  anger  increased,  the  more 
her  mind  ran  on  her  grievance.  It  was  not  that  she 
was  disappointed  at  all,  that  she  made  clear  to  her- 
self to  begin  with;  as  for  being  jealous,  the  very 
word  would  never  have  occurred  to  her  in  connec- 
tion with  her  just  indignation  at  Conal's  outrageous 
behavior. 

Mainly  she  resented  not  having  foreseen  the  slight, 
or  even  the  possibility  of  it.  She  had  certainly  had 
reason  for  counting  on  Conal's  subjection;  she  had 
boasted  of  it  to  Finulla,  had  proved  its  completeness 
by  judicious  experiment,  and,  being  convinced  of 
it,  had  laid  herself  open  to  be  flouted  before  the 
world.  For  there  was  no  question  that  every  one 
had  noted  the  affront;  Mesgedra  himself  had  shown 
that  he  felt  she  had  been  treated  rudely,  though  he 
had  made  some  clumsy  effort  to  hide  it.  The  others 
had  seen,  no  doubt.  The  idea  was  unbearable. 

Then  there  was  the  failure  of  her  expected  tri- 
umph, her  excellent  stroke  of  wit  with  which  she 
had  plotted  to  dazzle  Conal.  How  she  had  hugged 
herself  in  advance  at  the  thought  of  his  bewilder- 

108 


DULL  DAYS  AT  TARA  109 

ment,  when,  awed  himself  by  the  splendor  of  the 
court,  he  saw  her  at  her  ease  among  the  Queen's 
maids !  But  the  shoe  was  like  to  be  upon  the  other 
foot,  for  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  Conal  had 
scored  first. 

It  was  at  Tara  that  she  was  brooding  over  her 
injury,  sitting  under  a  tree  near  a  well  behind  the 
grianan.  It  was  in  the  heat  of  the  day;  the  Queen 
was  sleeping,  the  girls  amusing  themselves  elsewhere. 
There  was  no  one  near  to  see  her,  and  she  soon  had 
gotten  to  such  a  pitch  of  exasperation  that  she  would 
not  have  cared  if  there  had  been.  She  kicked  the 
dust  until  the  hem  of  her  gown  was  streaked  and 
grimy;  she  beat  the  tree  with  her  fist  (it  only  made 
her  knuckle  sore) ;  she  threw  a  stone  (laboriously)  at 
a  bird,  and,  finding  no  balm  in  these  feats,  composed 
herself  with  her  face  in  the  crook  of  her  arm  and 
whimpered  without  restraint.  After  she  had  cried 
for  a  time,  she  felt  famously  relieved,  washed  her 
face  at  the  well,  decided  that  it  was  time  to  be  dress- 
ing, and  when  she  had  changed  her  gown  presented 
herself  to  wait  upon  the  Queen  where  she  sat  in  her 
sunny  house. 

Nessa  had  awakened  in  a  sulky  temper,  and  she 
was  of  such  a  nature  that  it  was  impossible  for  her 
to  be  out  of  sorts  herself  without  making  every  one 
near  her  uncomfortable.  She  was  a  fretful,  spoiled, 
peevish  person  at  best,  was  Nessa,  fond  of  her  com- 
fort, fond  of  good  living,  restless,  fickle,  eager  for 
entertainment.  She  had,  too,  a  good  idea  of  her 
position.  Her  father  had  been  King  of  Munster 


no         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

in  his  time,  but  she  had  wearied  of  his  small  court, 
and  it  was  no  secret  that  she  had  married  Dathi 
for  the  sake  of  the  rank  he  gave  her.  No  matter, 
they  were  quits,  for  it  was  no  secret  either  that  he 
married  her  to  bring  her  father  and  her  powerful 
kinsmen  to  his  side.  They  both  had  what  they 
desired.  We  may  suppose  they  both  were  satisfied. 
Nessa  at  any  rate  was  contented  to  be  the  first 
woman  in  the  kingdom,  to  adorn  herself  profusely 
with  gold  and  fine  clothes,  to  feast  pompously  day 
after  day,  and  to  have  her  share  of  women  to  flatter 
and  champions  to  pay  court  to  her. 

Now  the  reason  for  her  ill-humor  was  that  the 
chief  of  these  pleasures  had  lately  failed.  Dathi's 
warlike  preparations  had  swept  the  court  of  Tara 
clean  of  men.  There  was  no  longer  any  amusement 
to  be  had;  there  was  no  hunting  by  day  or  feasting 
at  night;  pomp  and  jollity  had  alike  gone  by  the 
board.  At  the  first  whisper  of  the  High  King's 
plan,  all  the  youth  and  gallantry  of  the  court  had 
transformed  itself  suddenly  into  manhood  and 
mettle,  had  turned  from  ladies'  smiles  to  consort 
with  sooty  smiths  and  drovers  with  the  smell  of 
the  herd  strong  upon  them,  had  clattered  away  at 
last  with  hardly  a  look  behind,  leaving  the  field  free 
to  the  dotards  and  graybeards.  Small  wonder,  then, 
that  Nessa  was  discontented. 

She  was  lolling  in  her  chair  with  her  chin  in  her 
hand  and  her  elbow  on  her  knee,  her  foot  tap- 
tapping,  and  an  uncomely  sullenness  marring  her 
handsome  face.  She  looked  up  with  a  frown  as 


DULL  DAYS  AT  TARA  in 

Etain  entered,  and  asked  her  sharply  why  she  was 
late. 

Though  Etain  saw  at  once  that  she  was  in  a  tem- 
per, she  was  not  frightened  by  that,  but  she  knew 
that  she  deserved  and  would  presently  get  a  scold- 
ing for  her  tardiness  unless  she  could  contrive  some 
distraction  for  Nessa's  mind.  A  merry  piece  of  im- 
pertinence would  do  as  well  as  anything.  Already, 
she  knew,  her  readiness  and  her  whimsical  turn  of 
mind  had  made  her  somewhat  of  a  favorite  of  the 
Queen's.  So  she  came  forward  smiling. 

"I  stopped  to  dress  myself  in  my  best,"  she  said, 
"for  I  knew  that  at  court  one  must  always  be  ready 
for  a  revel,  and  I  did  not  know  what  sort  of  merry- 
making you  might  have  in  mind  for  to-night." 

Nessa  smiled  in  spite  of  herself. 

"You  are  right,"  she  returned,  "it  is  always  best 
to  be  prepared.  And  that  your  trouble  may  not 
be  wasted,  you  have  my  free  leave  to  be  as  merry 
as  you  please.  There  is  a  harp  in  the  corner,  wine 
and  ale  on  the  table,  and  the  whole  grianan  to  dance 
in.  There  are  even  men  to  be  had  if  they  are 
necessary  for  your  pleasure.  You  may  have  your 
choice  of  a  brehon,  a  bard,  or  a  druid,  all  ollaves 
and  all  grandfathers,  or  of  Laegaire,  the  High 
Tanist." 

"Why,  that  would  be  very  nice,"  said  Etain  in  all 
earnestness.  "I  like  old,  wise  men  who  talk  seri- 
ously, and  Laegaire,  you  know,  is  my  foster-brother." 

The  Queen  was  much  amused. 

"Would  you  have  believed  there  lived  a  girl,"  she 


H2         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

appealed  to  the  others,  "whose  notion  of  pleasure 
was  to  talk  with  her  brother?" 

"I  do  not  see  why  you  say  that,"  said  Etain  in 
surprise.  "Of  course  any  girl  would  rather  talk  to 
her  brother  than  to  a  stranger.  When  Laegaire 
talks  he  says  things  worth  listening  to.  He  is  not 
like  some  young  men  who  think  girls  have  no  more 
sense  than  children  and  never  speak  to  them  of 
anything  but  of  games  and  clothes." 

"No  one  would  be  so  rude  as  to  call  him  amusing," 
assented  the  Queen  with  a  yawn.  "At  any  rate,  he 
is  the  best  figure  of  a  man  to  be  found  at  Tara  to-day. 
Oh,  I  could  wish  a  pestilence  on  Dathi  for  spoiling 
my  pleasure  so !  If  it  is  so  tiresome  here  already, 
what  will  it  be  before  he  returns?" 

"I  wonder  you  did  not  go  with  him,"  began 
Etain,  and  at  once  an  inspiration  came  to  her. 
One  way  was  left  still  to  get  the  better  of  Conal, 
a  triumph  even  more  complete  and  satisfying  than 
the  one  she  had  planned.  What  if,  when  he  came 
to  Tara,  he  found  no  Queen,  no  court?  What  if 
she  could  persuade  Nessa  to  take  her  and  all  the 
household  away,  and  go  adventuring  in  far  Gaul? 
She  hurried  on  eagerly: 

"If  you  are  weary  of  Tara  I  wonder  you  do  not 
go  to  Gaul  yourself.  Oh,  it  is  a  voyage  worth  taking, 
I  know  that.  I  have  heard  my  father  tell  of  those 
countries  and  of  the  strange  sights  there  are  to 
see  in  them.  There  are  cities  there,  fifty,  a  hundred 
times  as  big  as  the  largest  rath,  and  in  them  people 
live  packed  together,  tumbling  over  one  another  like 


DULL  DAYS  AT  TARA  113 

ants.  And  the  houses  are  high,  rising  story  upon 
story,  and  piled  high  with  goods — every  day  is  a 
fair  day  with  them.  It  is  marvellous.  I  have 
heard  my  father  tell  of  it.  Why  should  we  not  go  ?  " 

"What?  With  the  army?  To  war?"  cried  the 
maidens  incredulously,  but  Etain  was  not  to  be  put 
down. " 

"Why  not?  Have  queens  never  gone  to  war 
before?  I  suppose  Mab  stayed  at  home  in  her 
grianan  when  her  husband  went  out  to  fight !  Why, 
many  old  tales  tell  of  one  queen  or  another  who 
went  to  war  and  some  who  even  led  armies.  Every- 
one knows  that.  Why  could  not  Nessa  go  as  well 
as  the  others?" 

"You  are  not  taking  account  of  Dathi,"  said  the 
Queen  impatiently. 

"Of  course  he  will  be  glad  for  you  to  go  if  it 
gives  you  pleasure." 

"What  does  he  care  for  my  pleasure?  It  is  his 
own  that  concerns  him.  Such  are  men,  even  the 
best  of  them,  and  Dathi  is  not  one  of  the  best.  Do 
you  remember,"  she  appealed  to  the  maidens,  "the 
last  time  he  took  me  to  hunt  with  him,  how  surly 
he  was  because  we  began  to  sing  and  laugh?  He 
said  we  frightened  the  boar — as  if  one  goes  hunting 
for  the  boar's  comfort.  He  is  all  selfishness.  Little 
does  he  care  how  dull  the  days  are  with  us." 

"Once,  when  my  father  travelled,  he  did  not  want 
to  take  me  with  him,"  said  Etain  thoughtfully, 
"but  I  made  ready  quietly  and  followed  after  him 
for  a  mile  or  so,  and  then  showed  myself.  Then, 


114         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

you  see,  he  had  no  time  to  turn  back  with  me,  and 
though  he  blustered  a  little,  I  went  along  in  the  end." 

The  Queen  sprang  to  her  feet,  took  Etain  by  the 
hand,  and  kissed  her  warmly. 

"Praise  fortune  for  your  brains!"  she  cried. 
"That  is  the  first  bit  of  sense  that  maid  of  mine 
has  spoken  in  months." 

She  swept  across  the  grianan  and  flung  open  the 
lid  of  a  chest. 

"Four  days  to  Inver  Colptha,"  she  calculated 
rapidly,  "or  three  if  the  roads  are  dry.  One  day 
to  make  ready — that  is  five  at  most.  We  will  arrive 
just  as  he  is  on  the  point  of  sailing.  Oh,  what  a 
thing  it  is  to  have  brains !  Hurry,  lazy  ones !  All 
the  gowns  but  only  the  golden  ornaments.  The 
steward  must  see  to  the  horses.  Run,  some  one,  and 
tell  him;  but  it  is  better  that  Laegaire  should  not 
know  until  we  are  gone." 

She  began  to  pluck  at  the  fastenings  of  her  gown, 
and  Etain,  spinning  ecstatically  on  her  toes,  sped 
out  of  the  house  to  make  ready. 


CHAPTER  X 
A  BULL-FEAST  FOR  CONAL 

Ronan  came  rattling  up  to  the  gate  and  hailed 
the  dun  with  a  triumphant  shout. 

"What  news  from  the  fair,  Ronan?"  called  Mes- 
gedra, hurrying  out  of  the  hall. 

"What  news?"  cried  Cathbar,  hurrying  after  him, 
mead-horn  in  hand. 

The  bard  got  down  from  his  chariot  and  grinned 
with  the  tantalizing  way  of  a  man  who  has  something 
worth  hearing  to  tell  and  means  to  make  the  most 
of  it. 

"I  have  news,  but  guess  whether  good  or  bad." 

"Hut !  Hut ! "  said  Mesgedra.  " How  should  we 
know?  Tell  us  that  yourself." 

"You  know  as  well  as  I,  for,  upon  my  word,  I 
cannot  tell." 

"Never  mind,  man.  Quick,  quick!  What  have 
you  heard?" 

"First,  then,  Firbis  lives." 

"That  is  ever  the  way,"  Mesgedra  complained. 
"A  blow  that  would  kill  seven  honest  men  is  harm- 
less to  such  a  weasel  as  that.  I  saw  Conal  strike 
him,  and  his  skull  spattered  open  like  a  rotten  egg. 
Are  you  sure  it  is  true?" 

"I  saw  him  myself.    He  has  a  hole  in  his  head 

"5 


n6        THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

you  could  put  an  apple  into,  but  otherwise  he  will 
be  as  sound  as  you  or  I  in  a  few  weeks." 

"But  Conal?"  said  Mesgedra  impatiently. 

"Yes,"  said  Cathbar.  "The  Bocanochs  fly  off 
with  Firbis !  What  of  the  boy  ?  " 

"  Good  news  of  him,  at  least.  It  is  certain  he  has 
escaped,  and  Buadach,  the  sea-captain,  who  came  to 
Tailtenn  on  an  errand  from  the  High  King,  told  me 
quietly  that  he  was  sure  he  had  seen  him  in  Dathi's 
presence,  with  other  late  arrivals,  and  he  described 
him  very  plainly." 

"That  is  comforting.  No  place  could  be  safer 
for  him.  But  go  on  with  your  story." 

"Shall  I  not  eat  first?"  The  bard  looked  long- 
ingly toward  the  kitchen. 

"Into  the  hall!"  Cathbar  cried.  "A  man  must 
eat,  of  course.  The  rest  can  be  told  to-night." 

"Have  you  forgotten  that  to-night  the  notables 
of  the  clan,  whom  you  summoned,  are  coming?" 
Mesgedra  reminded  him. 

"True,  and  I  trust  everything  will  turn  out  as 
you  have  planned.  I  am  uneasy  about  one  thing 
only.  My  other  son,  Ferdiad,  is  popular  with  the 
clansmen,  and  I  fear  some  of  his  friends  may  not 
be  satisfied  at  seeing  Conal  made  tanist  while  he  is 
away,  for  to  tell  you  the  truth,  he  has  always  looked 
on  the  succession  as  his  own." 

"A  good  thing  he  is  away,  then.  How  does  the 
old  chief  seem?" 

"About  the  same;  weak  and  wandering.  I  fear 
he  will  never  live  to  leave  the  dun." 


A  BULL-FEAST  FOR  CONAL  117 

"Well,  he  is  comfortable  here,  and  his  mind  runs 
so  on  his  boyhood  that  I  hardly  think  he  knows  from 
one  moment  to  another  whether  he  is  here  or  at  the 
royal  rath." 

"It  is  well  for  your  scheme  that  his  mind  is  so 
feeble.  -  If  he  knew  what  we  were  about  he  would 
be  very  angry.  When  I  was  made  tanist  he  was  not 
pleased  with  it,  though  he  was  then  advancing  in 
years,  and  lately,  as  I  told  you,  he  has  grown  more 
and  more  to  resent  the  idea  of  his  successor  being 
chosen  in  his  lifetime." 

"We  are  doing  what  is  best  for  him  and  for  the 
clan,"  Mesgedra  protested.  "Would  you  rather 
have  it  fought  out  after  his  death,  as  Dathi  and  his 
cousins  fought  for  the  High  Kingship  after  Niall  was 
killed?  Our  ancient  lawgivers  were  wise  and  far- 
sighted,  Cathbar.  See  how  the  ranks  of  men  are 
fixed  among  us,  and  how  the  grades  rise  one  above 
another  like  trees  on  a  hillside;  chiefs  of  clans,  kings 
of  tuaths,  kings  of  provinces,  up  to  the  High  King 
himself,  in  order  and  decency.  Each  has  his  rights 
and  his  duties,  which  every  man  knows  and  respects. 
What  plan  could  be  wiser  and  better?  Do  you 
suppose  our  ancestors,  who  settled  all  that  so  wisely, 
were  wrong  in  providing  that  the  tanist  should  be 
chosen  in  the  King's  lifetime?  Be  sure  that  there 
was  good  reason  for  it,  and  that  it  is  best  to  follow 
old  custom." 

"I  would  be  the  last  to  propose  new  departures," 
said  Cathbar  in  haste.  "It  is  only  that  a  loyal 
man  fears  to  do  anything  against  the  will  of  his 


n8         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

chief.  I  would  be  tanist  to-day  myself,  but  that  a 
blemished  man  like  me  cannot  hold  the  rank." 

"That,  too,  is  a  good  law,  as  all  our  laws  are," 
maintained  the  old  brugaid. 

"Strangers  are  coming,"  said  Eoghan,  looking  in 
at  the  door.  "Would  it  not  be  well  to  close  the 
gates?" 

"Those  will  be  the  flaiths,"  said  Cathbar.  "Let 
us  go  and  meet  them,  Mesgedra,  for  it  would  be 
better  for  them  to  have  seen  you  and  talked  with 
you,  before  you  open  your  scheme  to  them." 

They  welcomed  the  newcomers  and  dismissed 
them  to  the  baths.  Before  sunset,  the  green  around 
the  dun  was  crowded  with  chariots,  and  every  flaith 
with  a  claim  to  a  voice  in  the  clan's  counsels  was  at 
hand. 

The  hall  of  the  dun  was  not  large  enough  to  hold 
them  all  at  table,  so  the  evening  meal  was  served 
under  the  sky,  for  Cathbar  feared  discontent  and 
quarrelling  if  some  had  places  in  the  hall  and  some 
were  sent  elsewhere.  After  they  had  eaten,  they 
crowded,  one  and  all,  into  the  hall,  for  they  knew 
that  they  had  been  called  there  to  take  part  in  some 
important  debate. 

It  was  a  notable  house,  this  hall  of  Cathbar's, 
finer  even  than  the  hall  of  Mesgedra's  bruden. 
The  walls  were  of  polished  yew,  the  posts  of  strong 
wood,  covered,  to  the  height  of  a  man's  head,  with 
plates  of  bronze  and  ornamented  with  gilded  figures 
of  birds  and  animals.  There  were  nine  divisions  on 
each  side  between  the  door  and  the  wall,  and  a 


A  BULL-FEAST  FOR  CONAL  119 

fine  bronze  bed  frame  in  each  division,  wide  enough 
for  one,  two,  or  three  bedfellows,  and  covered  with 
furs  and  beautifully  woven  robes.  At  the  foot  of 
each  division  there  was  a  seat.  The  floor  was  of 
hard,  white  earth,  strewn  with  yellow  reeds,  and  a 
stone  hearth  in  the  centre  held  the  fire. 

When  all  had  seated  themselves  as  best  they  could, 
the  chain  of  silence  was  shaken,  and  at  the  sound  of 
its  melodious  tinkle,  all  talk  was  hushed.  In  the 
absence  of  the  old  King,  Mesgedra  was  the  eldest, 
and  after  a  polite  interval  he  arose  and  spoke  to 
them: 

"It  is  not  through  intrusiveness  or  love  of  talking 
that  I  am  here  speaking  to  you  this  night.  Cathbar, 
my  old  friend,  thought  you  would  not  be  displeased 
if  an  old  man,  who  has  given  counsel  to  the  High 
King  before  now,  should  advise  you,  but  if  it  does 
not  please  you  I  will  be  silent,  for  I  force  my  opin- 
ions upon  no  one. 

"Your  King  lies  in  a  house  of  this  dun,  stricken 
with  great  age.  For  more  years  than  are  commonly 
given  to  men  he  has  been  the  strong  stay  of  the  house 
of  Fiacra,  a  flame  of  battle,  an  old  bestower  of  vic- 
tory; now  his  mind  wanders  and  his  speech  thickens; 
not  for  long  will  he  be  with  you,  and  he  has  led  your 
chariots  for  the  last  time. 

"That  is  the  first  subject  of  my  speech.  It  is 
bad  for  a  strong  clan  to  be  without  a  leader  young 
enough  and  strong  enough  to  defy  its  enemies.  For 
this  reason  do  we  choose  tanists  to  help  an  aging 
chief,  and  to  take  his  place,  when  he  dies,  without 


120         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

bickering   and   bloodshed,   quarrels   and   disputed 
right. 

"  So  much  for  that.  The  choice  is  yours,  if  choice 
be  made,  and  after  you  have  thought  of  what  I 
say,  you  will  do  what  seems  fitting  to  yc »  :  I  go 
on  to  another  matter. 

"You  know  what  brought  me  to  this  n.  It 
was  friendship  for  your  young  kinsman  Cv  ^S,  now 
unhappily  a  fugitive.  He  has  done  that  w  ich  the 
ancient  law  forbids  and  punishes  more  sverely 
than  any  other  crime  except  one — and  tl  ?  a  one  a 
horrible  impiety  and  offense  against  tic  gods — 
no  less  than  the  lighting  of  a  fire  on  the  day  of 
Bel. 

"I  come  before  you  to-day  to  ask  your  favor  for 
this  boy,  and  I  am  confident  that  you  will  give  it, 
for  he  is  your  cousin,  and  it  was  in  your  cause  that 
he  struck  down  the  Leinsterman.  It  is  true  that, 
if  you  will,  his  lands  may  be  taken  from  him  and  he 
may  be  cast  out  of  the  tribe  forever.  But  the  laws 
appoint  those  who  were  injured  to  take  vengeance 
on  him  who  has  done  wrong,  not  his  kinsmen  and 
neighbors,  and  I  do  not  believe  you  will  find  it  hi 
your  hearts  to  treat  him  harshly  when  I  have  told 
you  for  what  reason  he  slew  Firbis:  how  he  taunted 
Conal,  saying  that  your  kings  had  taken  gifts  of 
his.  Many  coarse  insults  did  Firbis  heap  upon  your 
name,  and  it  was  in  avenging  these  that  Conal 
broke  the  law. 

"A  good  man  is  Conal,  proud  of  his  race,  quick 
in  revenge,  not  giving  satisfaction,  but  taking  it. 


A  BULL-FEAST  FOR  CONAL  121 

If  he  were  here  among  us  to-night,  free  from  the 
penalty  that  hangs  over  him,  it  would  not  be  strange 
if  you  were  to  choose  him  for  your  King's  successor. 
But  as  things  are,  that,  alas,  cannot  be,  for  it  would 
bring  down  on  you  the  enmity  of  the  tribes  of  Lein- 
ster,  which  is  already  stirred  against  you,  and  their 
power  is  so  great  that  no  clan  in  Eirinn  dares  brave 
them." 

The  clansmen  had  listened  so  far  with  grave 
silence  and  attention,  but  at  these  words  a  grumble 
of  disapproval  burst  from  them. 

"A  sow's  tail  for  the  tribes  of  Leinster!"  they 
shouted.  "We  will  brave  them  whether  others 
dare  or  not."  And  they  made  such  a  noise  striking 
their  spears  against  their  shields  that  Mesgedra 
was  forced  to  wait  for  some  moments  until  they 
had  bellowed  themselves  out. 

"Be  not  rash,"  he  said  at  last,  stretching  out  his 
arms  over  them.  "It  is  useless  to  talk  of  this,  for 
Conal  is  not  here.  Moreover,  even  if  your  powers 
were  a  match  for  the  might  of  Leinster,  it  were  best 
to  live  at  peace  with  them,  for  the  shanachies  gave 
decision  that  they  were  closer  to  the  blood  of  Fi- 
acra  than  yourselves,  and  that  by  rights  their  chiefs 
were  your  overlords — it  was  for  saying  this  that 
Conal  struck  Firbis." 

Again  a  roar  went  up  from  the  clansmen,  partly 
of  rage  at  Firbis's  humiliating  claim,  partly  of  grati- 
fication at  Conal's  ready  retort. 

"Let  Conal  be  tanist!"  cried  a  voice  from  some- 
where in  the  back  of  the  hall. 


122         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

"Not  so!"  exclaimed  Mesgedra  hurriedly.  "Be- 
lieve me  it  would  be  more  prudent  and  safer  in  every 
way  not  to  take  a  step  so  sure  to  infuriate  Firbis's 
clan  and  family.  It  would  be  a  mortal  affront  to 
defy  them  so  publicly.  Let  Conal  protect  himself 
as  best  he  can.  He  is  hot-headed  and  quarrelsome. 
Some  more  cautious  person  would  be  better,  a  man 
less  inclined  to  resentment  and  passion.  If  he  were 
chief  he  would  be  leading  your  spears  into  Leinster, 
sacking  duns,  and  levying  tribute." 

"Sit  down,  old  man!"  cried  the  clansmen. 
"  Conal !  We  will  have  Conal ! " 

The  room  was  in  an  uproar.  The  cry  was  coming 
from  all  sides. 

"  Conal  for  tanist !  A  white  bull !  A  white  bull ! 
Conal  for  tanist !  Defiance  to  Leinster !" 

Suddenly  the  stirring  note  of  a  harp  sounded, 
struck  by  a  vigorous  hand,  and  Ronan  Dhu  sprang 
on  a  couch  and  began  to  chant  in  rapid  verses, 
praising  Conal  and  defying  the  Leinstermen.  The 
clansmen  caught  the  blazing  torches  from  the  wall 
and  poured  out  of  the  house,  with  waving  weapons 
and  hoarse  shouts. 

"A  white  bull !    A  white  bull !    Conal  for  tanist ! " 

Mesgedra  let  himself  down  into  his  seat. 

"You  see,"  he  said,  smiling  at  Cathbar,  "we  need 
worry  no  more  over  young  Conal's  trouble.  He  is 
safe  now  with  the  High  King.  When  he  returns  I 
will  say  a  word  to  Dathi  for  him,  and  when  the  old 
chief  dies  he  will  take  his  place  quietly;  the  Lein- 
stermen will  not  dare  pursue  the  chief  of  the  clan 


A  BULL-FEAST  FOR  CONAL  123 

of  Fiacra,  and  in  time  the  whole  affair  will  be  for- 
gotten." 

A  mighty  roar  swept  in  through  the  door.  A  great 
white  bull,  the  king  of  the  herd,  was  being  led  into 
the  enclosure  of  the  dun.  The  clan  shouted  and 
clashed  their  weapons  as  he  paced  slowly  on  be- 
tween the  torches,  sniffing  right  and  left,  but  not 
frightened  or  surprised  by  the  glare  and  tumult. 
He  was  halted  at  the  door  of  the  hall,  and  one  of 
the  flaiths,  with  steady  hand,  thrust  a  broad  cutting- 
spear  deep  into  his  throat.  He  toppled  like  an  oak 
falling  in  the  forest.  In  a  trice  the  great  carcass 
was  dismembered,  and  the  water  was  seething  and 
bubbling  in  the  largest  caldron.  The  bull-feast  was 
prepared  and  eaten,  and  Conal's  election  was  com- 
pleted. 


CHAPTER  XI 
"CONAL  WILL  NEVER  BE  KING" 

With  his  purpose  so  happily  accomplished,  Mes- 
gedra  had  nothing  further  to  keep  him  at  the  dun, 
so  he  exchanged  good  wishes  with  The  Old  Cham- 
pion and  set  off  for  the  guest-house  again. 

A  full  train  of  attendants  had  come  from  the 
bruden  to  bring  them  home,  so  they  travelled  in 
suitable  state,  making  short  stages,  and  resting  at 
whatever  guest-house,  rath,  or  dun  was  nearest 
when  the  mood  for  stopping  took  them. 

In  this  way  they  came,  without  haste,  to  Tail- 
tenn,  passing  through  it  on  the  fourth  day,  about 
noon. 

The  place  was  utterly  transformed  since  they  left 
it,  with  the  fair  in  full  course.  The  city  of  tents 
and  booths  had  been  swept  away,  leaving  a  bare 
dozen  houses  strung  along  the  highroad.  Where 
the  crowds  had  hurried  to  and  fro,  herds  were  graz- 
ing. The  mounds  and  banks  where  the  meetings 
of  the  bards  had  been  held  were  new  sodded  and 
green.  Fresh  young  grass  covered  the  trodden 
earth  of  the  field  of  games,  and  the  peaceful  and 
pastoral  scene  had  nothing  about  it  to  recall  the 
busy  centre  of  trade  and  revelry  they  had  left. 

124 


"CONAL  WILL  NEVER  BE  KING"         125 

As  they  approached  the  houses  they  saw  a  cart 
standing  before  one  of  them.  A  number  of  British 
slaves  were  lifting  a  stretcher  into  it,  which  sup- 
ported a  man  whose  head  was  so  swathed  in  band- 
ages that  scarcely  an  inch  of  his  face  could  be  seen. 
Although  they  were  handling  him  with  the  most 
solicitous  care,  a  stream  of  curses  was  coming  from 
him,  mixed  with  pitiful  groans. 

At  last  the  stretcher  was  gotten  into  place,  with 
a  slave  on  either  side  to  steady  it,  and  the  cart 
moved  out  into  the  road. 

Mesgedra's  attendants  were  laughing  and  chatter- 
ing as  they  came  along,  and  the  wounded  man  raised 
himself  a  little  on  his  elbow  to  look  at  them.  Ronan 
recognized  him  and  called  to  Mesgedra: 

"Look,  it  is  Firbis.  He  is  riding  out  to  take  the 
air. 

:<  Your  veil  is  so  thick  I  could  hardly  recognize 
you,"  he  said  to  the  Leinsterman,  not  attempting 
to  suppress  a  smile  of  malicious  triumph. 

Firbis's  eyes  glowed  through  the  folds  of  linen, 
bright  with  concentrated  hate.  He  raised  himself 
higher,  by  a  great  effort,  and  turned  his  gaze  on 
Eoghan  and  Mesgedra  in  their  turn. 

"You  are  all  here  to  look  at  me,  I  see.  All  here 
but  Conal.  If  you  ever  see  him  again,  tell  him  how 
I  looked  this  day.  It  may  make  him  feel  easier, 
and  he  will  need  consolation." 

"Do  not  fear  for  Conal,"  said  Ronan  cheerfully. 
"We  have  placed  him  where  he  will  not  need  to  fear 
you  or  any  one." 


126         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

"Old  news!"  snarled  Firbis.  "I  know  what  you 
did  at  Cathbar's  dun,  and  I  will  tell  you  another 
thing  that  I  know,  and  you  do  not.  He  will  never 
be  tanist." 

"He  will  be  King  of  Dal-Fiacra  when  you  rot  on 
a  dung-pile,"  replied  Ronan  speedily. 

"He  will  never  be  King,  or  tanist  either,"  Firbis 
repeated  in  an  exulting  voice.  "He  will  learn  what 
price  must  be  paid  for  wounding  me." 

He  pushed  back  the  bandage  and  exposed  the 
terrible  gash,  now  barely  beginning  to  heal. 

"Do  you  think  that  is  a  little  thing?"  he  croaked, 
"or  that  my  vengeance  will  not  reach  him  for  it? 
He  shall  pay  first,  and  you  afterward.  Bid  him 
farewell  if  you  are  friends  of  his.  He  will  never  be 
tanist.  I  will  come  to  you  later." 

He  fell  back  gasping  in  the  arms  of  his  slaves. 

"You  have  sung  your  death-song!"  Ronan  cried. 
He  snatched  a  spear  and  waved  the  Britons  aside, 
but  a  number  of  Leinstermen  came  running  from 
the  house  and  put  themselves  before  Firbis.  The 
two  parties  stood  facing  one  another  tensely,  while 
Firbis  lay  back,  half-fainting,  on  the  stretcher;  but  he 
recovered  himself  in  a  little,  and  bade  his  attendants 
move  on.  So  they  drew  apart  slowly,  keeping  hands 
on  hilts  until  they  were  a  spear's  throw  apart,  and 
even  then  watching  each  other  over  their  shoulders. 
At  last  the  winding  of  the  road  took  them  out  of  sight. 

"That  fellow  has  an  unhappy  temper,"  said 
Eoghan  critically.  "I  think  he  is  a  man  to  be 
avoided.  If  he  were  on  his  feet  he  would  be  danger- 


"CONAL  WILL  NEVER  BE  KING"         127 

ous,  for  it  is  easy  to  see  he  is  plotting  some  evil 
against  Conal." 

"Those  were  only  words  meant  to  vex  us,"  said 
Ronan  confidently.  "Since  we  know  that  Conal 
has  sailed  with  the  High  King  to  Gaul,  we  need 
not  worry  over  Firbis  and  his  threats  of  revenge." 

Mesgedra  suddenly  struck  his  forehead  with  his 
clenched  fist. 

"  If  we  know  it,  why  not  he  ?  If  Firbis  knows  that 
Conal  was  made  tanist,  why  not  that  he  has  gone 
to  Gaul?" 

"True !"  cried  Ronan,  and  he  tugged  at  his  reins 
until  his  horses  reared  high  over  him,  and  the  chariot 
spun  on  its  wheels.  With  a  gesture  he  summoned 
those  of  the  train  who  were  armed  and  mounted  to 
follow  him,  started  back  at  a  furious  pace  over  the 
road  they  had  just  come  by,  and  before  long  was  out 
of  sight. 

The  others  went  on  faster  than  before,  for  they 
had  a  nervous  feeling  that  something,  they  did  not 
quite  know  what,  should  be  done  and  at  once. 

Toward  night  they  stopped  and  camped  at  the 
roadside,  and  before  they  had  eaten  the  roar  of  wheels 
came  from  the  darkness  behind,  and  Ronan  dashed 
up  to  them,  plying  the  horse-rod  recklessly. 

Mesgedra,  who  had  been  pacing  up  and  down  in 
the  road,  waiting  for  him,  was  on  the  step  of  the 
chariot  in  an  instant  and  silently  waited  for  what 
he  had  to  say. 

"I  caught  one  of  the  Britons,"  Ronan  muttered, 
"and  he  spoke — under  persuasion.  It  is  true,  what 


128         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

you  suspected.  Firbis  knows  where  he  has  gone,  and 
has  sent  men  after  him." 

"Where  is  the  Briton?" 

"Back  there  in  the  bushes.  What  use  to  keep 
him  alive?  He  told  all  he  knew.  They  are  not  to 
kill,  but  to  maim,  so  that  Conal  cannot  be  tanist. 
They  will  blind  him,  or  cut  his  nose  off.  It  was 
Firbis's  own  idea." 

"Horrible !"  Mesgedra  groaned.  "There  is  noth- 
ing to  do,  that  is  the  worst  of  it.  We  could  never 
find  him  to  warn  him." 

"Firbis  hopes  to  find  him." 

"It  might  be  done,"  Mesgedra  admitted,  with 
new  hope.  "The  High  King's  army  will  leave  a 
broad  red  trail,  easy  to  follow.  Do  you  speak  the 
Roman?" 

"I  have  none  of  it  worth  talking  of;  a  few  words 
picked  up  from  slaves." 

"That  would  not  do.  Whoever  goes  must  have 
it  well,  so  that  he  can  pass  for  a  Gaul  or  a  Briton. 
Eoghan  perhaps — no,  no,  it  is  impossible.  None 
of  us  could  do  it.  There  is  no  one  to  send." 

"A  slave,"  Ronan  suggested.  "There  are  some 
Gauls  at  the  bruden  who  are  trustworthy.  Laegaire 
has  a  steward  he  puts  great  dependence  in.  He 
would  go  if  you  asked  for  him." 

"They  would  go  willingly,  but  how  could  we 
trust  them  to  keep  faith  with  us?" 

"It  would  be  necessary  to  pick  the  right  man 
and  to  bind  him  with  oaths.  They  have  certain 
sacred  things— mysteries,  I  do  not  know  what— and 


"CONAL  WILL  NEVER  BE  KING"         129 

when  they  have  sworn  by  them  they  hold  it  binding. 
I  learned  that  from  my  old  nurse." 

"That  is  one  way,"  Mesgedra  agreed,  without 
much  confidence.  "We  must  try  it,  I  suppose, 
since  nothing  better  offers." 

"Let  us  make  haste,  then,"  Ronan  said  impa- 
tiently. "We  do  not  know  how  much  start  Firbis's 
men  have,  or  how  long  it  will  take  to  find  Conal." 

They  took  the  road  again,  moving  on  through  the 
darkness,  slowly  at  first,  then  faster  and  faster,  as 
if  no  treacherous  fords  or  roadside  precipices  threat- 
ened them,  while  sparks  flew  from  the  jolting  wheels 
and  the  horses  struggled  blindly  for  footing. 


CHAPTER  XII 
"INCESTO  SPUMAVIT  REMIGE  TETHYS" 

The  low  waves  overside  slid  past  interminably. 
The  sea  was  gray-green  without  a  fleck  of  white, 
except  for  the  little  ripples  parted  evenly  over  the 
bow,  the  long  sweep  of  the  wake,  spreading  like  a 
swallow's  tail,  and  the  clouds  of  milky  bubbles, 
springing  from  under  the  churning  oars. 

The  galley  heaved  steadily  forward  to  the  thump 
and  scrape  of  the  sweeps.  Overhead  the  sail  swelled 
out  smoothly  from  the  yards  with  the  pressure  of  the 
unfailing  breeze. 

A  succession  of  low  hulls  and  painted  sails  stretched 
nearly  to  the  horizon  in  every  direction.  Dazzling 
points  of  light  flashed  back  and  forth  from  polished 
bronze  and  iron,  and  the  chant  of  the  rowers  came 
monotonously  over  the  water,  dying  in  one  quarter 
to  be  taken  up  hi  another. 

Far  in  the  distance  on  the  white  cliffs  of  Alban, 
already  fading  from  sight,  terrified  Britons  watched 
the  passing  of  the  fleet,  and  now  were  beginning  to 
raise  hymns  of  thanksgiving  that,  for  this  time  at 
least,  their  coasts  were  not  to  be  visited,  nor  their 
villas  burned. 

A  tanned  seaman  sat  against  the  rail,  steadying 

130 


"INCESTO  SPUMAVIT  REMIGE  TETHYS"     131 

the  steering  oar  with  one  hand.  In  the  other  he 
held  a  bit  of  charred  wood  with  which  he  was  draw- 
ing on  the  deck  boards.  Conal  sprawled  beside 
him,  watching  and  listening. 

"This  is  the  point  of  Iberia,"  said  the  seaman, 
sketching  away  briskly,  "and  here  runs  the  river 
they  call  Librus.  Boats  can  pass  up  it  for  a  day's 
journey.  Then  there  are  rapids,  and  you  must  take 
to  the  land.  Here  is  another  great  river.  I  do  not 
know  its  name,  but  it  divides  the  territory  of  the 
King  of  All  the  World  from  the  barbarians.  Our 
friends  the  Saxons  live  thereabouts.  The  legions 
are  posted  on  that  river,  for  there  is  always  fighting 
to  do  there." 

"And  where  do  we  go?"  asked  Conal  lazily. 

"Wherever  the  High  King  leads.  There  is  good 
plunder  everywhere,  large  and  rich  cities." 

"When  will  the  fighting  begin?" 

"You  will  find  it  hard  to  fight  with  the  Gauls. 
They  are  the  most  cowardly  of  mankind.  They 
hire  the  legions  to  fight  for  them,  a  body  somewhat 
like  the  Fianna.  I  am  told  they  are  men  of  proper 
spirit,  but  they  have  been  drawn  off  to  other  parts 
since  Niall  was  killed." 

"I  am  sorry  for  that.  I  had  hoped  to  see  some 
war  worth  the  name.  Brian,  do  you  hear?  Bua- 
dach  says  we  will  have  no  fighting." 

The  old  warrior  unwound  himself  from  his  cloak 
and  sat  up. 

"Likely  not,  unless  the  legions  come  against  us. 
There  will  be  sharp  work  if  we  meet  them.  They 


I32         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

make  a  hedge  of  battle  like  a  thorn-tree  thicket. 
I  have  fought  with  them  in  Alban,  and  once  before 
in  Gaul  when  I  was  with  Niall,  and  I  have  not  for- 
gotten them.  They  are  rough  warriors.  But  they 
have  strange  customs,  and  no  idea  of  honor  at  all. 
They  refuse  single  combat  and  stand  shoulder  to 
shoulder  throughout  a  battle." 

"But  if  one  goes  out  before  the  army  and  challenges 
them,  they  cannot  refuse." 

"Strange  as  it  may  seem,  they  care  nothing  for 
that.  I  have  seen  men  dare  them  for  hours,  singing 
satires  about  them  and  taunting  them  to  their  faces. 
They  would  shout  back,  sometimes,  but  they  stood 
in  line  tamely  and  were  afraid  to  budge  until  the 
word  was  given.  That  is  the  way  they  fight. 
They  stand  still  for  a  long  time,  and  then  when  they 
are  ready  they  lower  their  spears  and  come  on  as 
one  man.  It  is  hard  to  stand  against  them,  too, 
even  for  the  bravest,  for  the  shock  of  their  charge 
is  staggering,  like  the  charge  of  chariots  against 
footmen.  There,  indeed,  we  would  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  them  if  we  had  some  horses,  for  they 
fight  always  on  foot." 

"They  cannot  be  of  much  account,"  said  Conal 
contemptuously.  "How  can  a  man  love  glory  who 
will  not  fight  except  in  line?  And  is  it  not  love  of 
fame  that  makes  a  warrior  formidable?  I  cannot 
see  either  why  their  attack  should  be  so  much  to 
be  feared.  One  chariot-king  is  worth  a  dozen  men 
on  foot  at  close  quarters." 

"That  is  true  with  us,  and  yet  they  have  something 


"INCESTO  SPUMAVIT  REMIGE  TETHYS"     133 

dangerous  about  them  that  we  lack.  Three  Romans 
are  no  more  than  a  match  for  one  Scot,  but  fifty 
Romans  can  meet  fifty  of  ours  on  equal  terms,  and 
two  hundred  of  them,  standing  on  the  defensive, 
have  little  to  fear  from  twice  as  many  of  our  war- 
riors. " 

"There  will  be  good  spoil,  at  any  rate,"  said 
Buadach. 

"You  well  may  say  so.  It  is  not  that  the  country 
is  so  rich,  but  that  they  huddle  together  so  closely, 
so  that  one  has  as  much  under  one's  hand  in  taking 
one  of  their  cities  as  if  he  were  to  sack  Tailtenn  fair. 
It  is  all  in  tight  bulk,  too;  wine  and  jewels,  and  other 
things  that  are  easily  carried.  Then  there  are  the 
slaves;  with  three  cows  as  the  price  of  a  handmaid 
there  is  profit  in  them." 

"Riches  are  not  to  be  despised,  for  rank  rests  on 
them,"  said  Conal  meditatively.  "But  I  would 
rather  meet  champions  in  hard,  rough  combat  than 
plunder  cowards." 

Buadach  shook  his  head  dubiously. 

"Honors  are  all  very  well,"  he  said,  "but  I  hope, 
when  my  trade  has  gone  a  little  better,  to  buy  a 
herd  and  settle  on  some  land  of  my  clan's.  Then 
I  will  be  treated  with  consideration,  and  my  sons 
will  be  aires.  No  one  will  sing  songs  about  me,  but 
my  head  will  stand  square  on  my  shoulders." 

"You  are  both  right,"  said  Brian.  "Glory  is 
what  makes  a  man  live  on  after  the  earth  has  taken 
him.  A  pillar  stone  with  a  few  scratches  on  it  and 
a  dozen  verses  at  the  end  of  a  bard's  song  seem  little 


134         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

enough  in  themselves,  but  who  does  not  wish  to  be 
remembered  after  death? 

"On  the  other  hand,  it  is  in  every  man's  mind 
to  settle  down  in  his  age  in  some  quiet  countryside, 
and  tell  stories  to  his  grandchildren. 

"But  those  things  go  best  together,  and  it  is  no 
small  satisfaction,  after  a  well-fought  campaign,  to 
count  over  a  few  ounces  of  gold  or  a  score  of  cattle 
that  have  fallen  into  your  hands  in  the  intervals 
of  fighting;  and  when  one  is  telling  children  tales 
it  is  pleasant  to  be  able  to  say:  'It  was  I  who  took 
that  dun,'  or,  'Thus  I  slew  the  champion  at  the 
ford.'" 

"I  will  set  my  mind  on  the  pillar  stone  and  the 
poet's  verses,"  said  Conal,  with  a  show  of  cheer- 
fulness. "It  is  no  use  for  me  to  gather  gold  and 
cattle,  for  I  have  no  hopes  of  a  peaceful  old  age  at 
home,  with  grandchildren  at  my  knee.  I  hope  only 
to  do  some  deed  worthy  of  a  bard's  praise,  and  then 
if  death  meets  me  on  this  voyage,  I  will  welcome  it." 

"What  talk  is  that?"  said  Brian  impatiently. 
"Boys  love  to  nurse  gloomy  thoughts.  If  I  have 
done  things  that  bards  sing  of,  do  I  wish  to  die? 
Far  from  it.  I  wish  to  go  on  and  do  another  thing 
and  then  yet  another,  still  more  honorable.  Here 
you  are  with  fourteen  sturdy  followers.  You  have 
come  off  safe  so  far,  and  for  all  you  know  your 
troubles  may  be  over.  No  one  knows  who  you  are 
or  what  you  have  done  except  Buadach  and  I,  and 
we  will  not  betray  you.  Then,  after  you  have  shown 
the  High  King  that  you  are  a  man  to  be  counted 


"INCESTO  SPUMAVIT  REMIGE  TETHYS"     135 

on,  it  will  not  matter  whether  it  is  known  or  not. 
Dathi  never  lets  one  of  his  warriors  be  bothered  by 
the  law.  Think  of  that  pretty  young  girl  of  Mes- 
gedra's  (I  saw  you  had  a  fancy  for  her)  and  for  her 
sake  make  up  your  mind  once  for  all  that  you  will 
come  Dut  of  this  adventure  with  credit,  and  hi  the 
meantime  save  your  skin  whole  if  you  can." 

Conal  sprang  to  his  feet  and  walked  to  the  stern 
of  the  boat  where  he  could  look  over  the  water  and 
turn  his  back  on  the  others,  so  that  they  could  not 
see  from  his  face  how  this  careless  talk  of  Etain 
stung  him.  He  tried  to  force  himself  to  respond 
to  Brian's  rough  common  sense,  but  he  could  not 
feel  that  the  future  was  very  bright.  At  last  he 
went  forward,  rolled  himself  in  his  cloak,  lay  down 
under  the  half -deck,  and  slept,  or  pretended  to  sleep. 

Between  the  mouths  of  the  Boyne  and  the  Loire 
the  ocean  is  turbulent,  and  storms  brew  quickly,  but, 
whether  because  of  druid  spells  or  the  favor  of  for- 
tune, the  sea  was  calm  for  Dathi's  fleet,  and  the 
crossing  was  made  without  misadventure  or  con- 
fusion. 

There  were  skilled  pilots  among  the  ships  who  had 
made  the  voyage  many  times  for  trade  in  wool  and 
wine,  and  they  were  not  afraid  to  time  their  progress 
so  that  the  night  was  upon  them  when  they  en- 
tered the  mouth  of  the  river,  and,  laboring  all  night 
long,  they  won  their  way  far  up  the  stream  before 
dawn. 

When  the  sun  rose  they  had  come  to  a  place  where 
the  river  ran  narrow,  and  the  current  was  so  swift 


136         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

that  the  strength  of  the  rowers  was  taxed  to  force 
the  great  galleys  against  it.  The  woods  came  down 
to  the  water  on  both  sides,  and  no  cleared  ground 
was  to  be  seen,  except  an  occasional  tiny  farm,  and 
these  had  bare. rafters  and  crumbling  stacks,  and 
from  all  appearances  were  deserted. 

The  High  King,  Dathi,  stood  on  the  prow  of  the 
foremost  ship,  with  his  chosen  captains  about  him. 
Now  at  the  height  of  his  adventurous  career,  and  in 
the  prime  of  his  magnificent  manhood,  the  monarch 
did  not  need  the  diadem  or  the  mingled  colors  hi 
his  cloak  to  distinguish  him  among  them. 

He  was  a  man  of  more  than  common  height,  and 
his  frame  was,  if  anything,  too  massive  to  be  well- 
proportioned.  His  features  were  bold  and  well 
formed,  his  nose  broad  and  strong,  his  mouth  gen- 
erous but  straight-lipped,  inclining  to  subtlety. 
His  face  was  given  an  expression  of  power  and  dignity 
by  his  high  forehead  and  prominent  cheek-bones. 
His  complexion  was  of  a  fresh  and  pleasant  ruddiness, 
his  hair  and  beard  of  a  dark  chestnut  color,  his  eyes 
brown  or  green  as  his  mood  changed  or  as  the  ob- 
server viewed  them. 

The  hardy  virility  of  his  face  and  form  contrasted 
curiously  with  the  extremely  ornate  fashion  of  his 
dress.  He  wore  a  green  tunic  of  exaggerated  ful- 
ness of  cut,  decorated  with  a  pattern  of  small  pur- 
ple dots,  and  terminating  hi  a  short  kilt  of  the 
same  material.  His  legs  were  covered  with  breeches 
of  saffron  cloth,  as  excessively  tight  as  the  vest 
was  voluminous.  His  beard  was  carefully  clipped, 


"INCESTO  SPUMAVIT  REMIGE  TETHYS"     137 

parted,  and  curled.  His  hair  was  dressed  elabo- 
rately, and  delicate  golden  balls  were  threaded  on  the 
hanging  locks.  His  golden  collar  was  as  wide  as 
a  man's  palm,  his  brooch  extended  across  his  breast 
from  shoulder  to  shoulder,  and  the  frogs  that  fastened 
his  tunic  were  as  large  as  goats'  horns. 

Standing  with  one  foot  on  the  carved  gunwale,  he 
talked  rapidly,  gesticulating  with  a  short  hunting- 
spear  which  he  held  in  his  hand.  He  was  in  the 
highest  spirits,  and  as  he  recognized  and  pointed 
out  one  landmark  after  another  which  showed  that 
they  were  nearing  the  limit  of  navigation  he  laughed 
and  shouted  boisterously,  baiting  those  about  him 
with  coarsely  familiar  jokes.  His  captains,  knowing 
from  experience  that  the  temper  of  kings  is  uncertain 
and  changeable,  answered  him  respectfully,  paying 
his  jokes  no  more  tribute  than  that  of  a  low  laugh; 
but  it  was  plain  that  they  all  shared  his  enthusi- 
asm. 

In  time  the  grumble  of  the  rapids  was  heard. 
On  a  signal  from  the  King  the  galley's  head  was 
turned  to  the  shore.  The  vessels  following  wheeled 
hi  turn,  and  their  keels  grated  on  the  gravel  at  the 
same  instant.  In  a  moment  a  flock  of  curraghs 
covered  the  river;  the  galleys  were  run  up  on  the 
land,  and  in  a  few  hours'  time  the  army  was  in  train 
to  march. 

Conal  stood  idly  about,  bewildered  with  the  bustle 
and  excitement.  He  was  in  every  one's  way.  He 
tried  to  help  this  man  or  that,  but  no  one  had  time 
for  explanations,  and  whenever  he  put  his  hand  to 


138         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

a  task  some  busy  seaman  or  officer  would  come  by, 
put  him  aside  quietly,  and  have  it  done  in  a  trice. 

Brian  had  been  summoned  to  the  High  King's 
presence;  his  clansmen  had  been  impressed  to  assist 
in  unloading  the  baggage,  and  Conal  felt  very  much 
deserted. 

At  length  Brian  came  striding  between  the  heaps 
of  leather  bags  and  beckoned  to  him  impatiently. 

"You  are  doing  nothing,"  he  cried.  "Come  with 
me,  and  hurry.  I  am  sent  in  advance  to  spy  about. 
The  rest  will  follow  with  little  delay,  but  I  know 
you  will  like  to  be  in  the  first  of  it.  Call  your  men 
and  come. 

"Dash  is  everything  hi  these  raids,"  he  went  on, 
as  he  took  Conal  by  the  arm  and  half  pushed  him 
ahead  through  the  forming  ranks.  "If  we  fall  on 
the  Gauls  before  they  suspect  we  are  near,  they  will 
hardly  dare  resist.  But  it  will  take  tune  before  the 
tents  are  set  and  the  women  hoisted  ashore;  and 
Dathi  cannot  leave  before  his  wife  is  comfortable, 
so  we  will  go  on  and  see  that  none  gets  sight  of  us 
and  escapes  to  give  the  alarm.  Dathi  always  lets 
me  choose  my  own  men,  and  I  knew  you  would 
want  to  come." 

"Indeed,  yes,"  said  Conal.  "It  is  what  I  would 
have  asked  above  everything." 

"  Be  on  your  guard,"  said  Brian.  "  I  do  not  think 
the  Gauls  suspect  we  are  near,  but  we  must  think 
of  everything." 

They  struck  into  the  woods  and  proceeded  for 
some  tune  along  a  rough  woodland  track,  advancing 


"INCESTO  SPUMAVIT  REMIGE  TETHYS"     139 

with  suitable  caution,  although  there  seemed  little 
to  fear.  In  time  the  forest  grew  thinner,  and  broad 
open  spaces  allowed  the  sunlight  to  reach  them. 
Then  the  openings  became  more  extended,  the  for- 
est thinned  to  isolated  groups  of  trees,  and  at  last 
the  wpods  were  left  behind  and  the  open  country 
lay  before  them. 

Rising  from  the  river  the  slopes  of  the  valley  were 
clothed  with  orchards  and  vineyards  and  crowned 
with  the  green  terraces  and  rambling  buildings  of  a 
noble  villa.  In  the  distance  the  walls  of  a  good- 
sized  town  stretched  down  to  the  water.  Facing 
them  twin  towers  rose,  flanking  a  gate  through 
which  a  road  issued  that  wound  upward  and  disap- 
peared over  the  hilltops. 

The  fields  of  the  villa  were  dotted  with  laborers. 
Travellers  were  passing  in  both  directions  along  the 
road.  The  scene  was  bathed  in  soft  sunlight.  It 
seemed  a  temple,  eternally  dedicated  to  Peace  and 
Plenty,  as  secure  under  the  aegis  of  Rome  as  Rome 
itself. 

But  Brian's  men  were  already  creeping  along  the 
terraces;  Conal  and  his  clansmen  were  working  their 
way  through  the  vine  stumps  and  dodging  from 
cover  to  cover  like  shadows.  The  stolid  peasant, 
pruning  the  vines  on  the  upper  terrace,  saw  nothing, 
heard  nothing,  until  a  cloaked  and  kilted  form  rose 
from  the  ground  before  him,  a  great  axe  flashed  in 
the  sun  over  his  head,  and  he  died  with  his  lips 
still  opened  with  his  scream, "  The  Scot !  The  Scot ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  XIH 
QUARTER,  AND  A  QUARREL 

As  that  cry,  unheard  for  years  but  remembered 
and  dreaded  of  old,  rang  over  the  vine  rows,  the 
laborers  threw  down  their  hooks  and  ran  shrieking 
along  the  terraces,  doubling  and  turning  until  at 
length  then*  blind  rush  carried  them  among  the  ad- 
vancing Scots,  and  they  blundered  onto  the  thirsty 
spears. 

Conal  wasted  no  time  on  these  defenseless  serfs 
but  led  his  clansmen  on,  bounded  up  the  slope,  and 
threw  himself  into  the  villa.  He  passed  with  rapid 
step  through  lofty  rooms  and  shady  courts,  but  met 
no  resistance,  and  indeed  found  only  solitude.  A 
single  man  of  the  better  class,  his  robe  flung  over  his 
head,  cowered  in  a  convulsion  of  terror  behind  the 
couches  of  the  triclinium.  One  of  Conal's  followers 
dealt  him  a  blow  with  the  end  of  his  spear  in  passing, 
and  he  howled  horribly  with  fright  but  had  not  the 
courage  to  move.  This  was  not  the  game  Conal 
sought.  He  took  no  more  than  a  passing  look  at 
the  rich  plunder  scattered  about  the  room,  though 
his  men  snatched  here  and  there  at  whatever  took 
their  fancy. 

They  came  out  of  the  villa  on  the  side  toward 

140 


QUARTER,  AND  A  QUARREL  141 

the  highroad.  Looking  back,  Conal  could  see  Brian's 
men  rolling  out  huge  vases  of  wine  and  beating  in 
the  plugs  with  their  sword-hilts.  Some  of  them  were 
already  staggering;  others  were  running  about  fling- 
ing burning  brands  into  the  barns  and  granaries. 
Curling  flames  were  lapping  the  eaves  of  the  low 
buildings,  and  ribbands  of  light  smoke  were  stream- 
ing from  the  windows. 

A  party  of  travellers  were  approaching  along  the 
road  at  no  great  distance.  At  sight  of  the  smoke 
rising  over  the  villa  they  halted  for  a  brief  look, 
whirled  about,  and  spurred  for  the  city.  Instantly 
men  and  women  were  seen  nuining  over  the  fields 
and  along  the  highway.  Fugitives  streamed  from 
every  bypath  and  made  for  the  gate  with  what 
speed  they  could.  The  next  moment  the  wide  doors 
of  the  villa  were  burst  open  from  within  and  the 
High  King's  guard  came  swarming  out  into  the  road. 

Conal  cried  to  his  clansmen  and  waved  them 
forward,  and  they  raced  for  the  gate  after  the  flying 
country  folk. 

Neither  the  cries  of  the  pursued  nor  the  shouts  of 
the  pursuers  alarmed  the  guard  lounging  in  the  gate- 
house until  the  terrified  mob  swept  under  the  arch. 
Then  they  ran  to  the  gates,  but  no  effort  could  force 
them  shut  against  the  pressure  of  the  panic-stricken 
rabble  struggling  for  admittance.  The  guards  were 
flung  aside,  the  fugitives  poured  into  the  streets, 
and  close  on  their  heels  came  the  elated  Scots. 

Up  and  down  the  narrow  streets,  in  and  out  of  the 
crowded  houses  the  warriors  stormed,  their  spears 


142         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

dripping  blood,  their  eyes  red  with  unrestrained 
ferocity.  The  miserable  citizens  were  helpless  and 
hopeless.  Cowering  in  cellars  and  porticos,  they 
saw  their  homes  sacked,  their  treasures  tossed  into 
the  streets  and  trampled,  and  their  neighbors,  no, 
their  own  children,  dragged  about  like  bales,  and 
herded  into  captivity.  Lucky  was  he  whom  some 
passing  plunderer  did  not  pull  from  his  poor  hiding- 
place  and  slaughter  carelessly  for  a  whim. 

In  one  place  only  some  desperate  resistance  was 
offered.  An  ancient  basilica  stood  facing  the  forum, 
years  ago  given  over  by  the  courts  and  transformed 
into  a  church.  Hundreds  of  women  and  children 
had  been  crowded  into  it,  and  on  its  steps  a  handful 
of  Gauls,  braver  than  their  fellows,  were  gathered 
to  die  defending  their  wives  and  families. 

Conal  was  not  tempted  to  join  in  the  useless  blood- 
shed and  heartless  pillage  about  him,  but  pushed 
on  into  the  square  seeking  a  chance  to  wet  his  new 
weapons  manfully.  His  countrymen  were  at  their 
work  of  rapine  all  around,  but  they  had  not  mo- 
lested the  group  on  the  porch;  there  would  be  time 
for  them  later,  after  the  first  orgy  of  blood  and 
destruction  was  over.  Conal  shouldered  his  way 
through  them  and,  drawing  his  sword,  walked  coolly 
up  the  steps.  Here  at  least  was  promise  of  work 
for  him,  and  work  that  he  welcomed,  be  the  odds 
what  they  might. 

As  he  made  ready  for  the  first  blow,  a  resonant 
peal  of  terrifying  loudness  resounded  from  the  belfry 
above  him.  The  sound  was  so  strange  and  unearthly 


QUARTER,  AND  A  QUARREL      143 

that  he  recoiled  involuntarily.  Again  and  again  the 
sound  came,  a  vibrant  hollow  stroke  that  seemed 
to  search  out  taut  cords  in  his  body  and  set  them 
throbbing  in  unison.  He  hesitated  but  for  a  moment, 
but  in  that  moment  he  had  taken  in  the  group  before 
him  and  he  found  his  impetuous  desire  for  the  excite- 
ment of  combat  giving  way  to  a  feeling  of  contempt 
and  pity. 

The  men  on  the  porch  carried  their  arms  awk- 
wardly. Not  one  of  them  had  in  the  least  degree 
that  martial  air  that  is  shared  by  the  most  peace- 
able of  a  nation  where  to  bear  arms  is  the  duty  and 
high  privilege  of  all.  Their  swords  turned  unsteadily 
in  their  hands,  fear  was  stamped  deep  in  their  faces, 
but  desperation  had  raised  them  for  a  time  to  the 
resolve  that  they  would  not  live  to  see  the  fate  that 
awaited  those  who  were  dear  to  them. 

"What  glory  is  there  in  fighting  these  novices?" 
thought  Conal.  "A  pretty  feat,  that,  for  bards  to 

ten  i" 

He  threw  up  his  hand,  palm  outward. 

"Lay  down  your  arms,"  he  said  in  the  clipped 
Latin  he  had  learned  from  his  father's  slaves. 
"Your  lives  will  be  spared  you." 

The  Gauls  looked  at  him  without  hope. 

"It  is  not  the  custom  of  the  Scots  to  spare,"  said 
one  of  them.  "We  have  determined  to  die.  Quo' 
'lie  diabol' !  Better  death  than  bondage." 

But  a  little  doubtful  note  had  crept  into  his  voice, 
and  he  did  not  look  as  if  his  thoughts  quite  kept 
pace  with  his  words. 


144         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

"By  the  oath  of  my  people,"  said  Conal,  "you 
shall  go  free." 

"And  our  wives  and  children?" 

"They  too  shall  be  spared,"  cried  Conal  impa- 
tiently. "Fools!  Will  you  haggle  with  me?  I 
could  slay  you  with  my  spears  from  where  I  stand." 

"I  will  trust  you,  pagan,"  said  the  Gaul  suddenly, 
and  he  dropped  his  sword  on  the  pavement  and 
folded  his  arms. 

"Stand  close  tome,  then,"  said  Conal;  "or better, 
go  inside.  My  men  will  keep  the  door." 

He  posted  his  clan  on  the  steps  and  followed  his 
prisoners  into  the  church,  for  he  was  curious  to  see 
what  was  within. 

The  nave  was  crowded  with  women  and  children, 
too  terrified  to  weep,  almost  too  terrified  to  pray. 
Somewhere  hi  the  church  a  voice  was  chanting  a 
litany,  and  an  occasional  voice  responded,  but  other- 
wise the  silence  was  so  deep  that  between  the  notes 
of  the  chant  the  breathing  of  the  multitude  was 
clearly  audible.  At  the  sight  of  Conal's  garb  a 
single  deep  moan  rose  from  the  crowd  and  those 
near  him  gave  back,  until  a  wide  open  space  was 
left  around  the  entrance,  although  a  moment  before 
it  would  have  seemed  impossible  that  they  could 
have  been  packed  closer. 

Conal  halted  just  within  the  door.  The  dim  in- 
terior with  its  endless  perspective  of  columns,  the 
huddled  refugees,  the  monotonous  notes  of  the 
chant,  the  measured  tolling  of  the  great  bell,  and 
the  glow  of  the  lamp-lighted  altars  stirred  his  simple 


QUARTER,  AND  A  QUARREL      145 

nature  fantastically.  There  was  something  of  mys- 
tery in  it  that  took  him  aback,  something  of  beauty 
that  drew  him  on. 

He  felt  an  overmastering  awe  move  in  him  that 
he  had  known  before,  when  on  the  eve  of  Beltain 
the  druids,  with  muttered  spells,  extinguished  the 
fires  and  offered  sacrifice  to  Bel,  or  when  by  the 
hearth  in  midwinter  old  men  told  tales  of  the  Riders 
of  the  Shee  feasting  in  their  enchanted  underground 
palaces,  and  of  the  mystic  power  they,  though  a 
conquered  race,  had  over  the  destinies  of  men. 
Strive  against  it  as  he  might,  that  emotion  shook 
him  as  no  tangible  thing  could.  He  shivered  and 
backed  out  without  a  word. 

Once  hi  the  sunlight  again  the  uncomfortable  feel- 
ing passed  away.  The  clansmen  were  leaning  stolidly 
on  their  spears,  talking  in  low  tones  and  watching 
the  smoke  rising  over  the  city  where  houses  had 
been  fired,  and  the  looters  passing  with  their  pre- 
cious spoil.  At  sight  of  him  they  straightened  and 
stood  ready. 

Conal's  heart  warmed  as  he  contrasted  their  bear- 
ing with  the  riot  and  confusion  that  was  going  on 
about  them,  and  he  spoke  a  word  of  praise,  which 
they  received  with  respectful  pleasure. 

At  that  moment  a  trumpet  sounded  and  a  column 
advanced  into  the  square,  with  Dathi  and  Brian  at 
its  head.  They  came  straight  to  the  steps,  and  the 
King  cast  an  approving  look  at  the  sturdy  fourteen, 
standing  so  soberly  to  their  arms. 

"You  have  a  good  band  here,"  he  said.     "They 


146         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

bear  themselves  like  veterans.  Where  did  you 
gather  them?" 

"They  are  my  own  poor  clansmen,  and  at  the 
King's  service,"  said  Conal  proudly. 

"What  have  you  within  there  that  you  are  guard- 
ing so  carefully?" 

"Prisoners.  I  have  promised  them  their  lives, 
and  I  am  protecting  them  from  violence." 

"That  is  a  good  thought,"  said  the  High  King. 
"These  others  are  thinking  of  nothing  but  blood 
to-day,  and  I  must  humor  them  until  they  are  sated, 
but  I  am  glad  to  see  that  some  are  less  hot-headed 
and  more  provident.  How  many  are  there?" 

"More  than  two  thousand,  I  think." 

"That  is  a  good  capture,  indeed;  the  worth  of 
sixty  hundreds  of  heifers  at  home,  or  a  trifle  less,  as 
the  market  will  be  glutted.  Look  after  them  well, 
and  in  the  division  of  spoil  you  will  be  treated 
fairly." 

"It  was  not  to  enslave  them  that  I  spared  them," 
answered  Conal;  "and  in  truth  I  have  promised 
them  that  they  shall  go  free." 

The  High  King's  brow  clouded. 

"Do  you  think  I  am  a  child?"  he  said  sharply. 
"You  mean  to  take  ransom  from  them  and  keep 
the  gold  yourself.  But  in  my  armies  no  one,  not 
I  myself,  keeps  back  his  plunder  from  the  common 
store  for  his  own  sole  profit.  Do  not  attempt  it 
or  it  will  go  hard  with  you." 

"It .is  not  in  my  mind  to  keep  back  plunder  for 
myself,"  said  Conal  haughtily.  "I  care  little  for 


QUARTER,  AND  A  QUARREL  147 

such  things.  I  speak  the  truth;  I  have  promised 
them  their  freedom." 

"You  have  promised!"  cried  the  High  King. 
"And  by  what  right  do  you  say  who  shall  go  free 
and  who  shall  be  taken,  when  I  have  given  over  this 
city  for  spoil  ?  Let  me  tell  you  that  the  men  who 
follow  me  spare  and  slay  as  I  bid  them,  and  not  as 
they  think  fit.  Out  of  my  way !  And  if  I  say  no 
more  at  this  time,  do  not  think  I  have  forgotten 
your  presumption.  As  for  those  in  here,  they  shall 
die  every  one." 

The  Children  of  the  Raven  shifted  their  posi- 
tions the  merest  trifle,  but  enough  for  Conal  to  note 
and  to  recognize  as  a  sign  of  their  literal  readiness 
to  carry  out  their  promise  and  support  him  against 
even  the  High  King. 

"That  may  not  be,  Dathi,  Quick  with  Weapons," 
he  said  evenly.  "If  I  have  done  anything  presump- 
tuous I  will  pay  eric,  or  do  whatever  else  your  dignity 
demands,  but  my  word  is  given.  I  have  sworn  by 
the  gods  by  whom  my  people  swear  that  they  shall 
not  be  harmed." 

Dathi's  face  darkened  with  inward  rage  and  the 
veins  in  his  neck  swelled  under  the  skin. 

"What  is  your  oath  to  me?"  he  answered,  re- 
straining his  voice  with  difficulty.  "You  will  find 
that  the  gods  of  Ulster  are  easier  to  appease  than  I. 
Say  no  more  if  you  value  your  life,  for  I  will  bear 
no  more  words  from  you." 

"My  life  is  not  of  so  much  value  that  I  will  for- 
feit honor  to  save  it,"  said  Conal  defiantly.  "I  do 


148         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

not  know  by  what  laws  you  govern  these  hordes  of 
yours,  but  I  know  my  rights  as  a  flaith  of  Eirinn 
and  a  free  chief,  and  I  trust  I  have  not  lost  them  by 
following  you  into  Gaul.  I  have  been  taught  that 
a  champion's  captives  are  his  own,  to  treat  as  seems 
best  to  him.  Let  the  Laws  of  the  Men  of  Eirinn 
judge  between  us.  There  are  those  who  will  avenge 
my  death." 

Brian  thrust  himself  hastily  between  them,  and 
pushed  Conal  back  with  a  bolt  of  cloth  that  he  car- 
ried under  his  arm. 

"  j  o  not  heed  him,  Dathi,"  he  said  peremptorily. 
"Tb.,  is  boy's  talk  and  not  to  be  taken  seriously. 
It  i  not  worthy  of  a  High  King's  dignity  to  be 
ang  ed  by  high-flown  words.  And  you,  Conal, 
sho^d  know  better  what  language  is  fitting  from 
a  petty  chief  to  the  Lord  of  All  the  Scots.  In  my 
time,  if  a  lad  like  you  spoke  so  to  his  elders  he  was 
taught  politeness  with  the  loose  end  of  a  dog-leash." 

"I  meant  no  disrespect,"  said  Conal  sulkily, 
"but  the  High  King  threatened  my  life." 

"Your  life  is  not  of  enough  importance  for  him 
to  waste  breath  giving  orders  for  slaying  you.  But 
you  see,  Dathi,  Quick  with  Arms,  the  boy  means 
no  harm,  but  is  only  a  lad  of  spirit  with  a  hot  tongue; 
and  indeed,  if  you  consider,  you  will  agree  with  me 
that  he  is  partly  right.  It  is  the  part  of  a  King  to 
have  care  for  the  honor  of  his  followers  and  respect 
for  their  oaths." 

Dathi's  anger  had  had  a  moment's  time  to  cool. 
He  had  a  wide  knowledge  of  men,  and  knew  to  a 


QUARTER,  AND  A  QUARREL  149 

hair  how  far  it  was  safe  to  override  the  prejudices 
of  his  countrymen.  Seeing  that  Brian's  sympathy 
was  actually  with  Conal,  he  felt  instinctively  that 
his  attitude  would  be  unpopular  with  all  those 
knightly  and  high-spirited  flaiths  in  whose  support 
lay  his  main  strength  and  who  were  his  chief  de- 
pendence. With  scarcely  any  visible  effort  he 
smoothed  the  frown  from  his  forehead  and  smiled, 
though  his  smile  was  not  a  friendly  one. 

"Since  you  intercede  for  him,  Brian,  it  shall  be 
as  you  wish,"  he  said.  Some  traces  of  asperity 
lingered  in  his  tone,  but  he  spoke  affably  on  the 
whole.  "But  remember,  young  chief,  one  does  not 
wrestle  with  a  bear  twice  without  suffering  from  his 
claws.  For  this  time  I  pass  over  your  insolence, 
and  those  whom  you  have  sworn  to  protect  shall  go 
unharmed;  but  beware  of  rash  oaths,  for  I  do  not 
promise  to  be  as  patient  another  time." 

He  turned  away  abruptly  and  strode  across  the 
square,  making  his  guards  run  to  keep  pace  with 
him. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
A  REPULSE 

"We  have  made  ourselves  a  fine  enemy,  you  and 
I,"  said  Brian  cheerfully.  "But  you  were  right  to 
defy  him,  for  a  flaith's  rights  are  as  good  as  a  King's, 
and  he  knows  it  as  well  as  you.  Only,  hi  the  name 
of  Bel,  choose  your  words  more  discreetly.  You 
have  a  tongue  like  a  file.  It  is  not  safe  to  rail  at 
a  King  as  you  would  at  a  cowherd.  If  it  were  not 
that  he  cannot  trust  this  rabble  he  has  brought 
with  him,  and  needs  the  support  of  the  flaiths,  he 
would  have  sent  you  to  be  flayed." 

"I  would  say  nothing  to  a  cowherd  that  I  would 
not  dare  say  to  a  King,"  answered  Conal  in  an  in- 
jured tone.  "I  struck  Firbis  for  less  cause  than 
Dathi  gave  me  just  now." 

"The  less  said  of  that  the  better,"  cautioned 
Brian  hastily.  "Can  you  not  see  that  he  spared 
your  life  only  because  he  feared  that  violence 
against  you  would  raise  your  friends  in  Eirinn  into 
a  faction  against  him,  and  embroil  him  with  the 
flaiths.  If  he  had  so  respectable  an  excuse  as  that 
it  would  not  be  long  before  you  paid  the  penalty 
of  breaking  the  peace  of  the  fair.  You  must  guard 
your  tongue  and  your  actions  from  now  on,  for 

150 


A  REPULSE  151 

give  him  the  least  occasion  against  you  and  he  will 
have  no  mercy." 

"I  seem  to  do  nothing  but  fall  into  trouble," 
said  Conal  gloomily.  "And  this  time  I  have  gotten 
you  into  it  with  me." 

"That  is  nothing.  I  understand  Dathi's  ways, 
and  Ke  mine.  He  is  never  angry  for  long  with  a 
man  who  is  useful  to  him.  But  look  you,  Conal, 
when  the  King  threatened  you,  you  should  have 
stepped  back  a  pace  and  half  turned  so  as  to  bring 
him  on  your  left  side,  and  a  little  in  front  of  you. 
Then  if  it  had  come  to  blows  you  could  have  reached 
him  in  the  very  act  of  drawing  your  sword.  At- 
tention to  points  such  as  that  repays  the  care  it 
takes  to  think  them  out,  and  that  is  a  piece  of  coun- 
sel that  may  save  your  life  some  time  in  a  sudden 
bicker. 

"But  shall  we  not  go  on  and  find  comfortable 
quarters  while  it  is  still  day?  I  have  no  mind  to 
walk  these  streets  after  nightfall,  for  they  are  so 
foul  with  blood  that  my  shoes  would  be  ruined,  a 
great  misfortune,  for  they  are  of  the  finest  doeskin, 
and  I  prize  them  highly." 

"I  will  set  guards  and  then  I  will  come,"  said 
Conal,  and  after  instructing  his  men  to  watch  at 
the  door  through  the  night,  he  went  with  Brian  to 
seek  shelter. 

They  turned  into  a  deserted  street,  where  the 
tide  of  havoc  had  already  passed  before  them, 
where  splintered  doors  hung  askew  on  their  hinges 
and  smashed  panes  gaped  at  them,  where  the  pave- 


152         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

ments  were  slimy  with  blood  and  almost  impassable 
for  the  tangle  of  discarded  plunder  underfoot.  At 
the  first  crossing  they  came  into  the  glare  of  a  burn- 
ing house  and  caught  sight  of  pillagers  at  their 
work  farther  down  the  street.  Next  moment  they 
were  out  of  sight  around  the  corner  and  passing 
along  a  quiet  avenue  between  rows  of  shuttered 
houses,  whose  respectable  privacy  had,  by  some 
chance,  been  left  unviolated;  then  through  a  lane 
and  past  a  splendid  palace,  where  a  crowd  of  Scots 
had  billeted  themselves  and  were  sprawling  all  over 
the  steps  and  the  pavement  in  front  of  it  and 
hanging  out  of  the  windows. 

Such  scenes  were  new  ,to  Conal  and  he  stopped 
every  ten  paces  to  look  about  him.  He  was  excited, 
absorbed,  repelled  somewhat,  but  on  the  whole 
delighted  to  find  himself  moving  among  such  scenes, 
and  a  part  of  them.  But  to  Brian  it  was  all  an  old 
story  and  he  kept  straight  on,  looking  neither  to 
right  nor  to  left,  until  they  came  opposite  to  the 
palace.  There  he  halted  and,  after  exchanging  a 
word  with  one  of  the  loungers  on  the  steps,  took  a 
critical  look  at  the  buildings  across  the  way. 

"These  are  as  good  lodgings  as  a  man  could  ask," 
he  said  in  satisfaction,  "and  we  can  pick  and  choose, 
for  there  is  room  for  all.  Murrough  and  his  men 
have  settled  themselves  here,  and  Dathi  has  be- 
spoken the  house  with  the  posts  in  front  for  him- 
self and  his  household,  but  the  rest  are  for  any  one 
who  takes  them.  What  do  you  say  to  the  high  one 
yonder,  with  the  cloth  blowing  out  of  the  window  ?  " 


A  REPULSE  153 

"One  is  as  good  as  another  to  me,  but  do  not 
let  us  go  high  in  them,  for  these  stories,  piled  one 
above  another,  make  me  dizzy." 

They  began  to  cross  over  when  theylieard  a  stir 
behind  them  and,  looking  back,  saw  the  loungers 
scrambling  to  their  feet  and  making  way.  Mounted 
men  approaching  blocked  the  roadway,  and  behind 
them  litters  came  bobbing  along,  swung  between 
horses.  Women's  heads  peeped  out  from  between 
curtains  of  the  litters,  and  the  High  King  walked 
beside  one  of  them. 

"Here  come  the  Queen  and  her  ladies,"  said 
Brian.  "Let  us  watch  them  pass,  for  I  have  never 
seen  her,  and,  besides,  it  will  be  respectful  to  wait 
until  they  are  past  before  we  go  in." 

Conal  agreed,  for  he,  too,  was  curious  to  see  the 
Queen,  and  they  drew  back  against  the  house  as 
the  cortege  came  nearer.  The  head  of  the  line 
stopped  before  the  building  which  Brian  had  pointed 
out  as  Dathi's  lodging,  and  the  Queen  and  her  at- 
tendants alighted  and  passed  indoors. 

Conal  craned  his  neck  to  see  better  and  was 
struck  with  a  vast  homesickness  at  the  sight  of  the 
fresh-faced,  smiling  girls,  with  their  smooth  braided 
heads  and  gay  kirtles,  walking  past  demurely,  two 
by  two.  There  was  something  about  each  of  them, 
figure,  coloring,  or  carriage,  which  recalled  Etain  to 
him.  He  forgot  where  he  was  for  a  little,  while  he 
tormented  himself  with  the  sweet,  inaccessible 
memory  of  her.  A  bitter  sense  of  loss  and  wrong 
took  hold  of  him,  and  he  thought  fiercely  of  the 


154         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

injustice  of  fortune  that  had  left  others  their  happi- 
ness but  had  sent  him  to  live  cut  off  from  sight  of 
his  love  forever.  His  mind  was  still  given  wholly 
to  the  thought  of  her,  still  disquieted  by  longings 
as  intense  as  hopeless,  when  he  raised  his  eyes  and 
saw  her  before  him,  his  vision  embodied. 

ConaPs  pulse  leaped  ahead  and  raced,  while  his 
good  sense  told  him  that  what  he  thought  he  saw 
was  impossible.  How  could  she  be  there  ? — And  yet 
there  she  was,  her  face  turned  from  him  a  little, 
her  head  drooping  pensively,  too  real  not  to  be  con- 
vincing. He  believed  at  last,  advanced  a  step, 
spoke  her  name,  and  she  turned  and  saw  him. 

She  knew  him,  that  he  could  swear,  but  no  trace 
of  friendliness  or  even  the  old  merry  scorn  awoke 
in  her  face  to  welcome  him.  Her  cheeks  colored  a 
little,  her  eyes  flashed,  and  she  swept  by  him  with 
straight  neck  and  face  averted. 

"Brian,  did  you  see?"  he  cried  in  bewilderment. 

"The  way  of  the  world,"  muttered  the  veteran. 
"Never  mind,  lad.  If  she  despise  you  in  misfor- 
tune you  are  the  better  off  to  be  rid  of  her." 

"Oh,  a  plague  eat  you  and  your  philosophy!" 
cried  the  boy  in  a  choked  voice,  and  he  turned  on  his 
heel  and  blundered  into  the  nearest  doorway.  A 
cringing  Gaul  made  way  for  him  to  enter. 

"Bring  wine,"  he  commanded  harshly  and,  fall- 
ing on  a  bench,  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

One  of  the  loungers  on  the  steps  opposite  saw 
him  as  he  turned,  and  touched  his,  neighbor  on 
the  arm. 


A  REPULSE  155 

"That  flaith  yonder,  going  in  at  the  door,"  he 
said.  "Quick!  Who  is  he?" 

"A  Connaughtman,"  said  the  man  he  spoke  to 
after  a  glance.  "Chief  of  a  clan.  He  came  in 
Buadach's  galley." 

The  other  sat  back  in  disappointment.  After  a 
moment  he  thought  to  ask  another  question. 

"Do  you  happen  to  know  a  young  Ulsterman, 
Conal  by  name?  Or  perhaps  I  have  the  name 
wrong,  but  he  is  a  tall  fellow,  dark-haired,  brags 
about  his  horses  continually " 


CHAPTER  XV 
THE  CAMP  OF  THE  BOCANOCHS 

In  the  morning  Dathi  called  the  seniors  of  the 
town  before  him  and  wrung  from  them  by  way  of 
ransom  whatever  the  plunderers  had  spared  or 
missed.  The  files  of  fettered  slaves  and  the  long 
train  of  wagons  piled  high  with  loot  were  sent  back 
to  the  ships  and,  after  burning  the  gate-towers 
and  breaking  great  breaches  in  the  walls,  he  led  his 
army  on. 

As  they  passed  out  of  the  city,  bells  began  to 
clamor  in  the  scattered  towers  that  rose  against  the 
horizon  all  around.  From  that  time  forward  this 
sound  of  distant  bells  ringing  a  violent  alarm  ac- 
companied their  march  without  ceasing,  a  thing  of 
mystery  and  a  cause  of  distrust  to  all  the  Scots. 

The  country  through  which  they  proceeded  was 
swept  clean  of  people.  The  villas  stood  vacant  on 
the  hillsides,  with  all  their  treasures  unprotected, 
as  the  owners  or  caretakers  had  left  them  at  the 
news  of  the  raiders'  approach. 

The  less  disciplined  of  the  army  were  inclined  to 
burn  every  building  they  passed,  but  Dathi  repressed 
them  with  a  severe  hand.  Others  wallowed  among 
the  oceans  of  wine  that  were  to  be  had  for  the  tak- 

156 


THE  CAMP  OF  THE  BOCANOCHS          157 

ing  in  that  land  of  vineyards,  until  the  High  King 
hanged  a  dozen  of  the  drunkards  on  the  poplars  by 
the  roadside. 

Of  a  truth,  a  considerable  part  of  Dathi's  follow- 
ers were  of  the  most  worthless  and  unmanageable 
type.  JThe  desire  of  avoiding  jealousies  and  dis- 
putes, so  inevitable  whenever  one  great  chief  was 
preferred  before  another,  had  kept  him  from  calling 
upon  the  clans  of  the  provinces  to  go  with  him, 
and  he  had  filled  up  his  levies  with  fudhirs  and 
broken  men  of  all  sorts.  He  was  more  rigorous 
with  them  than  any  other  would  have  dared  be, 
but  he  was  obliged  to  wink  at  many  irregularities 
which  seemed  little  less  than  enormities  to  the 
trained  warriors  and  chivalric  flaiths  who  surrounded 
his  person.  From  this  cause  the  army  was  split 
into  two  parts  from  the  beginning.  The  nobles  and 
men  of  known  clans  marched  by  themselves  and 
camped  at  a  distance  from  the  other  fires.  Only 
Brian  and  the  other  battle  leaders,  relics  of  NialTs 
victorious  armies,  had  equal  influence  with  both  fac- 
tions. A  long  apprenticeship  in  partisan  war  had 
made  them  tolerant  of  excesses  in  men  who  fought 
well,  and  the  haughtiest  of  aires  could  not  deny 
their  right  to  deference. 

Brian  was  always  a  march  in  advance,  scouting 
and  skirmishing,  and  Conal  kept  with  him.  Brian 
was  inwardly  troubled  over  the  boy,  for  he  took  his 
rebuff  to  heart  and  showed  it  in  a  hundred  ways. 
He  had  become  hard,  moody,  and  morose  overnight. 
He  sought  solitude  when  he  could,  avoided  all  talk 


158         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

of  the  past,  and  was  cynically  unconcerned  for  the 
future  except  for  an  increase  of  interest  hi  the 
chances  for  action  and  hard  fighting.  His  disap- 
pointment grew  daily  greater  as  they  advanced 
farther  and  farther  into  the  heart  of  Gaul  without 
any  show  of  opposition,  and  he  complained  bitterly 
to  Brian  as  the  days  passed  uneventfully.  The  old 
warrior  would  have  been  contented  enough  for  his 
own  part  with  this  profitable  and  safe  campaigning 
but  he  understood  Conal's  restlessness  and  assured 
him  daily  that  before  long  a  chance  to  blood  his 
sword  must  come. 

One  more  city  they  stormed  in  their  progress, 
sending  back  much  plunder.  They  passed  by  other 
towns  with  stronger  walls,  not  wishing  to  delay  for 
a  siege.  In  a  week's  time  they  were  well  into  the 
territory  of  the  Aquitani. 

One  morning  Conal  and  Brian,  marching  as  usual 
far  in  front  of  the  army,  saw  clouds  of  dust  approach- 
ing. They  hid  in  the  hedges  and  in  course  of  time 
a  great  company  of  Gauls  came  out  of  the  dust, 
men,  women,  and  children,  with  heaped  wagons, 
hurrying  at  top  speed.  Conal  fell  upon  them  with 
his  men  when  they  were  within  distance;  the  Gauls 
abandoned  their  wagons  at  the  first  shout  and  scat- 
tered across  the  field,  but  the  clansmen  circled  and 
headed  them  and  brought  back  half  of  them  hi 
bonds.  Once  taken,  they  accepted  their  position 
without  much  resistance,  and  while  they  showed 
some  fear  when  brought  before  Brian  they  did  not 
shrink  and  cower  as  might  have  been  expected  of 


THE  CAMP  OF  THE  BOCANOCHS    159 

captives,  but  one  of  them  stepped  forward  and, 
before  Brian  could  speak,  began  to  question  hirn, 

"What  fate  may  we  expect?" 

"Why  do  you  ask  that?"  replied  Brian,  wondering 
at  his  readiness.  "Death  or  slavery  is  the  lot  of 
prisoners;  or  are  you  rich  enough  to  pay  ransom?" 

"I  ask  only  if  we  need  fear  death." 

"And  if  you  need  not? — for  our  spears  are  for 
champions  fighting  equally  in  hard,  rough  combat." 

"Then  we  are  satisfied,"  said  the  Gaul,  "for  I 
have  heard  that  the  Scots  treat  their  slaves  kindly. 
I  ask  only  that  you  keep  us  in  your  own  service, 
for  from  your  look  you  will  not  be  a  hard  master." 

"It  is  strange  to  me,"  said  Conal  in  surprise,  "to 
hear  any  man  talk  so  calmly  of  slavery.  Does  it 
mean  nothing  to  you  to  be  carried  off  to  a  distant 
country  to  do  another  man's  will  forever?  I  did 
not  know  we  had  so  fair  a  name  among  you." 

"We  have  feared  the  Scots  of  old,"  answered  the 
Gaul.  "But  there  is  little  to  frighten  us  now  in 
your  bold  faces.  Your  garb  is  strange  and  your 
customs  savage,  but  at  least  you  are  humankind, 
and  the  fiends  of  hell  have  been  on  our  track  these 
three  days  past." 

His  voice  sank  to  a  whisper,  and  he  looked  over 
his  shoulder  as  he  spoke.  Although  the  clansmen 
did  not  understand  his  speech  they  read  the  gesture 
and  with  one  accord  grasped  their  amulets  for  pro- 
tection against  unseen  powers.  Conal,  too,  knew 
the  fear  of  the  supernatural,  and  was  impressed  by 
the  awe  in  the  Gaul's  voice. 


160         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

"Do  you  mean  that  the  Riders  of  the  Shee  are 
your  enemies?"  he  demanded.  "Have  they  shown 
themselves  to  you  or  did  they  come  in  the  storm- 
winds  and  attack  you  with  the  fury  of  the  ele- 
ments?" 

"I  saw  them  myself,"  said  the  Gaul  with  a  shud- 
der. "They  have  been  wandering  hereabout  for  a 
month  or  more  and  we  were  warned  but  we  de- 
layed to  save  our  baggage,  and  when  they  came  upon 
us  we  barely  escaped  them.  It  was  then  I  saw 
them — would  I  could  forget  the  sight." 

"In  what  appearance  did  they  come?" 

"In  forms  too  horrible  to  describe,"  replied  the 
Gaul.  "If  I  had  not  seen  them  I  could  not  have 
believed  that  even  demons  could  be  so  hideous." 

Conal's  eyes  flashed  with  generous  emotion. 

"This  at  last  promises  something  worth  a  warrior's 
efforts,"  he  exclaimed.  "Our  fathers  of  old  fought 
with  the  Shee  and  vanquished  them,  and  I  believe 
that  we  have  enough  of  their  spirit  in  us  to  fight, 
where  they  have  fought,  with  high  hopes  of  victory 
and  fame." 

"The  Shee  fight  with  many  weapons  that  human 
hand  can  do  little  against,"  said  Brian  dubiously; 
"  and,  if  old  stories  be  true,  our  ancestors  themselves 
dabbled  more  in  witchcraft  than  folk  of  our  time 
are  used  to.  But  I  am  willing  to  go  against  them, 
the  more  so  that  in  a  long  and  busy  lif  e  I  have  gen- 
erally found  that  spirits,  when  met  bravely,  turned 
out  to  be  cows  or  trees,  and  probably  these  Boca- 
nochs  will  be  found  to  be  much  of  our  own  build  and 


THE  CAMP  OF  THE  BOCANOCHS    161 

breed,  when  all  is  said  and  done.     Ask  him  in  what 
numbers  he  saw  these  apparitions." 

"They  were  as  the  grass  in  the  meadows,  as  the 
stars  on  a  clear  night,"  the  Gaul  asserted  with 
vigor. 

"That  would  be  about  a  thousand  spears,  I  take 
it,"  commented  Brian  practically.  "Best  wait  for 
the  High  King  to  come  up." 

Conal  grumbled  at  the  prospect  of  divided  glory, 
but  the  old  warrior  overruled  him  and  they  sent  a 
runner  back  with  the  news  and  waited  until  they 
saw  the  dust  and  glitter  of  the  army  approaching 
before  they  commenced  a  cautious  advance. 

They  pushed  forward  from  rise  to  rise  under 
Brian's  guidance,  going  rapidly  across  the  hollows, 
creeping  with  the  utmost  precaution  up  to  the  edge 
of  each  ridge,  and  carefully  surveying  the  country 
between  them  and  the  next  crest  before  going 
farther.  At  length,  gently  parting  the  long  grass 
on  the  summit  of  a  hillock  over  which  they  were 
crawling,  they  saw  an  extensive  camp  spread  be- 
fore them.  Not  far  away  a  knot  of  dwarfish  crea- 
tures were  watering  their  horses  at  a  shallow  pond. 
Their  scarcely  articulate  chatter  could  be  heard 
plainly,  and  one  of  them  was  singing,  if  his  tuneless 
and  discordant  howling  could  be  given  so  fair  a 
name. 

"In  the  name  of  the  great  Bel,"  muttered  Brian. 
"The  Gaul  was  right.  These  are  Bocanochs  or 
Bananochs,  and  no  humankind.  Look  at  the  squat 
figures  of  them,  and  their  flat  faces,  and  their  color 


162          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

— they  are  precisely  of  the  shade  of  pigskin.  May 
the  Dagda  assist  me,  I  never  thought  to  see  such 
monsters." 

"Monsters  or  not,  to  my  eye  they  are  more  dis- 
gusting than  formidable,"  said  Conal,  panting  with 
eagerness.  "And,  spells  aside,  I  will  handle  a  dozen 
of  them.  Shall  we  charge  them  with  a  hero's  shout 
and  see  whether  they  stand  their  ground  or  van- 
ish?" 

"There  are  enough  of  them  in  that  camp  to  spare 
a  hundred  to  each  of  us,  and  those  are  odds  I  do  not 
care  for.  Moreover,  I  feel  as  if  their  spells  would 
be  less  effective  if  they  were  spread  out  over  the 
whole  army  instead  of  being  concentrated  on  us. 
Better  for  us  to  leave  your  clansmen  here  to  keep 
watch,  while  we  go  back  to  Dathi  with  our  tale 
and  let  him  decide  what  shall  be  done." 

Dathi's  van  had  closed  up  quickly  since  the  run- 
ner reached  them,  and  when  the  High  King  heard 
their  story  he  began  at  once  to  make  his  dispositions 
for  an  attack.  Bodies  were  flung  out  on  the  flanks, 
and  it  was  arranged  that  at  a  signal  a  general  ad- 
vance on  the  camp  should  take  place.  The  detach- 
ments took  their  positions  with  such  circumspec- 
tion that  no  alarm  was  given,  and  waited  on  their 
arms  for  the  approach  of  night. 

The  evening  came  on  slowly  as  it  does  in  those 
climates.  Camp-fires  began  to  glow  among  the 
tents.  A  number  of  deformed  beings,  huddled  hi 
their  greasy  sheepskins,  drove  a  large  herd  of  mares 
into  the  circle  of  wagons  that  protected  the  camp- 


THE  CAMP  OF  THE  BOCANOCHS         163 

ing-ground.  The  uproar  around  the  fires  grew 
steadily  louder  as  if  the  horde  had  settled  itself  for 
a  night's  revel. 

When  the  time  was  ripe,  Dathi  gave  the  signal, 
and  at  once  the  Scots  began  their  advance,  crawl- 
ing silently  forward  under  cover  with  the  skill  of 
born  woodsmen.  When  concealment  became  no 
longer  possible,  they  sprang  up  and  came  on  at  their 
best  speed. 

Unexpected  as  their  charge  was,  it  failed  as  a  sur- 
prise. Their  strange  opponents  seemed  to  have 
sensed  their  approach,  and  they  were  met  with  a 
withering  flight  of  arrows  which  stretched  many 
hardy  champions  lifeless.  At  the  same  time  a 
numerous  troop  of  horsemen  issued  from  back  of 
the  enclosure  and,  wheeling  out  with  the  greatest 
rapidity,  began  to  weave  a  wide  circle  around  the 
rear  of  the  Scots. 

Thus  the  fight  stood  for  a  time;  the  strong  ring 
of  wagons  in  the  centre  with  every  chink  serving  as 
a  loophole  for  the  bows;  the  Scots  massed  around  it, 
cutting  and  thrusting  ineffectually;  around  them 
again,  the  horsemen,  whirling  past  like  a  circling 
dust-storm  in  the  dim  twilight,  and  discharging  their 
darts  upon  the  Scots  from  behind. 

Pre-eminent  among  his  men,  the  High  King  strove 
at  the  barrier.  His  strong  voice  made  itself  heard 
above  the  howling  of  the  horde  as  he  encouraged 
his  champions  to  fresh  efforts;  his  axe  rose  and  fell 
like  an  oak-bough  thrashing  in  a  storm,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  he  cleared  a  path  for  himself  and 


1 64         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

went  bounding  in  between  the  wagons.  The  little 
men  sprang  at  him  viciously,  to  be  swept  aside  by 
his  axe,  but  in  defending  himself  he  had  no  eyes 
for  where  he  stepped,  a  projecting  tongue  tripped 
him,  and  he  fell  headlong.  Those  nearest  the  King 
fought  hard  to  go  to  his  help,  but  the  very  eager- 
ness with  which  they  all  pressed  forward  together 
made  them  hinder  one  another,  for  each  was  bound 
to  be  the  first  and  none  was  willing  to  make  way. 

In  spite  of  all  he  could  do,  Conal  had  not  been 
able  to  keep  his  place  in  the  front  rank  of  the  at- 
tack but  had  been  jostled  aside  in  the  pushing  and 
struggling,  and  more  than  one  warrior's  body  was 
between  him  and  the  King.  But  when  he  saw  Dathi 
fall  and  be  swallowed  under  the  wave  of  sheepskin 
coats,  he  buffeted  his  way  into  the  middle  of  the 
confusion  until  he  got  his  hands  on  a  wagon  wheel, 
sprang  for  the  top  of  the  wagon,  slid  to  the  ground, 
and,  bestriding  the  High  King's  body,  met  the  rush 
of  the  horde. 

The  odds  were  sufficiently  against  him,  although 
in  the  narrow  alley  between  the  wagons  he  was  pro- 
tected at  both  sides.  The  dwarf-like  enemy  came 
at  him  howling  like  wolves,  and  striking  and  parry- 
ing with  such  address  that  he  could  not  escape 
wounds,  and  the  blood  began  to  trickle  in  warm 
threads  over  his  hands  and  down  his  cheeks.  None 
the  less  he  fought  coolly  and  adroitly.  Blow  after 
blow  was  wasted  on  his  diminutive  round  target; 
time  after  time,  with  the  deliberate  ease  of  long 
practise,  he  swung  his  spear  under  the  guard  of  an 


THE  CAMP  OF  THE  BOCANOCHS         165 

assailant  and,  with  delicate  thrust  and  recover, 
added  another  corpse  to  the  heap  before  him,  and 
was  on  the  defensive  again.  As  he  fought  he  began 
to  sing.  All  his  life  had  been  only  a  preparation  for 
this  moment;  he  had  been  taught  to  long  for  it  as 
the  beginning  of  his  true  career;  each  of  these  passes 
he  made  so  expertly  had  been  tried  again  and  again 
during  long  years  of  fosterage  that  he  might  be 
perfect  to-day.  Now  the  fruit  of  his  labors  was  be- 
ing harvested,  his  hand  failed  not,  his  eye  was  sure; 
was  it  not  then  a  time  for  rejoicing?  He  began  to 
feel  that  he  had  been  fighting  thus  for  ages,  and  would 
go  on  forever  fighting  as  long  as  wolfish,  flattened 
faces  were  left  in  the  world  to  lear  at  him  and  squat 
figures  to  strike  and  be  stricken.  His  effort  was  too 
great  to  be  long  sustained,  and  he  began  to  weaken 
with  the  loss  of  much  blood,  but,  before  his  grow- 
ing unsteadiness  was  seen  and  taken  advantage  of, 
the  Scots  broke  through  the  wagons  at  a  dozen 
places,  and  the  camp  was  carried.  The  horde  re- 
sisted for  a  time  but  took  to  their  horses  at  last  and 
scattered  without  pursuit. 

Conal,  without  knowing  how  it  came  about, 
found  himself  without  opponents.  Behind  him  the 
High  King  was  getting  to  his  feet,  pulling  himself 
up  by  the  wagon  wheels,  and  spitting  out  mouthfuls 
of  mud. 

"Give  me  a  hand  there!"  he  demanded  petu- 
lantly. "Will  you  leave  me  sprawling  in  the  dirt 
all  day?  A  pest  seize  you,  spearman,  you  have 
gone  to  sleep  on  your  feet!" 


1 66         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

"A  moment,  Dathi,"  Conal  muttered  drowsily. 
"I  feel  strangely " 

His  head  was  swimming,  and  his  knees  seemed  to 
weaken  and  grow  limp,  but  he  took  a  step  to  help 
the  King.  At  that  moment  a  crowd  of  exulting 
flaiths  came  running  up,  pushed  him  aside,  and 
took  Dathi  up  on  their  shoulders.  They  carried  him 
off  cheering,  while  Conal  slid  slowly  to  the  earth 
and  lay  unnoticed  under  the  wagons. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  KING'S  FAVOR 

Presently  the  clansmen  came  shouldering  through 
the  press  and  bore  their  young  leader  away,  to  bind 
up  his  wounds  with  clean  linen  and  lay  him  com- 
fortably on  a  pile  of  skins. 

With  riotous  glee  the  Gaels  feasted  on  the  joints 
that  were  ready  smoking  over  the  camp-fires,  and 
sampled  the  strange,  sour  liquor  in  the  skins  that 
had  been  set  about  ready  for  the  horde's  indulgence. 
It  was  Brian  who  first  thought  to  rummage  among 
the  wagons.  No  one  had  suspected  that  plunder 
would  be  found  amid  such  squalor  and  filth,  but 
heaped  under  the  foul-smelling  sheepskins  was  a 
marvellous  treasure,  the  spoil  of  a  dozen  opulent 
provinces.  Out  on  the  earth  they  tumbled  plate 
and  jewels,  rich  stuffs  and  rare  wines,  spices  and 
carved  ivory.  Here  one  drew  from  a  casket  curling 
plumes  a  cubit  long  and  light  as  sea-foam,  each  worth 
the  ransom  of  a  high  aire;  there  ropes  of  pearls  of 
a  length  to  encircle  a  man's  waist  were  pulled  one 
by  one  from  their  greasy  wrappings  and  tossed  heed- 
lessly on  the  ground. 

They  ran  from  wagon  to  wagon  all  night  long, 
finding  fresh  marvels,  more  and  more  splendid. 
When  morning  came  they  gathered  the  booty  into 

167 


1 68         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

a  vast  pile  in  the  centre  of  the  camp.  The  warriors 
surrounded  it  and,  poking  about  the  heap,  at- 
tempted vainly  to  estimate  the  thousands  of  seds 
it  represented,  but  it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  here 
was  sufficient  spoil  to  enrich  every  man  of  them  be- 
yond his  most  extravagant  dreams.  No  one  spoke 
of  anything  but  of  a  division  of  the  treasure  and 
immediate  return  to  Eirinn,  for  all  were  agreed 
that  the  capture  had  well  repaid  their  efforts  and 
that  for  this  time  they  might  well  be  content. 

By  the  time  the  tents  were  pitched  and  the  women 
and  the  rear-guard,  coming  up  slowly,  had  entered 
the  wagon-ring,  Dathi  freed  himself  from  his  over- 
zealous  well-wishers  and  went  in  to  where  the  Queen 
was  waiting  for  him.  Nessa  was  apt  to  be  irked 
by  even  a  little  appearance  of  neglect.  She  was  of- 
fended with  him,  lay  back  on  her  cushions  with  a 
sulky  face,  and  began  to  reproach  him  for  not  hav- 
ing looked  better  to  her  comfort. 

"Why  did  you  not  see  that  at  least  a  roof  was 
made  ready  for  me?  Do  you  know  that  I  waited 
for  hours  in  the  damp  and  dark  while  this  poor 
kennel  was  built  for  me  to  crawl  into?" 

"What  is  wrong  with  the  tent  that  you  put  a 
bad  name  on  it?"  asked  Dathi  gruffly.  "It  cost 
hard  knocks  and  bloodshed  to  win  a  place  to  pitch 
it,  and  I  have  other  things  to  look  to  than  your 
comfort." 

"You  think  always  of  fighting — never  of  me,  cer- 
tainly, or  you  would  not  show  yourself  to  me  in 
such  a  state.  You  are  covered  with  mould  and 


THE  KING'S  FAVOR  169 

blood  like  a  plaster — a  pretty  sight  for  a  queen's 
presence." 

"If  the  dress  is  fit  for  a  king  to  wear,  it  is  fit  for 
a  queen  to  see.  Lucky  it  is  not  my  own  blood,  for 
I  lost  my  footing  in  the  charge  and  fell  sprawling, 
and  fifty  howling  Bocanochs  were  upon  me  at  once. 
It  was  close  work  then,  and  no  room  to  spare. 
You  were  never  nearer  widowed  than  you  were 
to-day." 

"  Why  were  you  alone  ?  Where  were  all  the  cham- 
pions that  have  taken  gifts  from  you?" 

"Of  course  not  one  was  near  when  I  needed  them. 
But  there  was  a  nimble  young  flaith,  not  one  of  the 
household  at  all,  but  a  free-lance,  a  hanger-on  of 
Brian's,  who  reached  me  in  time  and  managed  to 
hold  them  for  a  moment  until  I  got  to  my  feet 
again." 

Etain  pulled  at  the  Queen's  sleeve  from  behind 
her  chair. 

"Ask  the  High  King  the  name  of  the  flaith  who 
helped  him,"  she  whispered  breathlessly. 

"I  did  not  trouble  to  get  it  in  the  thick  of  the 
fighting.  He  is  a  black-haired,  bragging  youngster, 
some  petty  princeling,  an  Ulsterman  by  his  habit 
of  swearing;  an  uncomfortable  fellow,  always  talk- 
ing of  his  rank  and  his  honor — I  had  to  reprove 
him  for  it  just  the  other  day.  But  for  all  that,  he 
did  me  better  service  than  the  men  that  eat  my 
bread." 

"You  must  have  those  champions'  heads  lor 
that!"  said  the  Queen  frostily. 


170         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

"You  will  reward  that  flaith  royally,  will  you 
not?"  cried  Etain,  forgetting  her  manners  in  her 
eagerness. 

"Why,  true  enough,"  said  the  High  King,  look- 
ing from  one  to  the  other  with  an  amused  grin. 
"And  I  would  thank  you  for  your  interest  did  it 
not  seem  to  me  that  the  Queen  is  thinking  more 
of  my  dignity  than  of  my  life,  and  the  maiden  more 
of  the  man  than  of  either.  What  do  you  know  of 
him,  pretty  one?" 

Etain  began  to  blush  guiltily. 

"How  should  I  know  him  when  you  have  not 
even  told  his  name?" 

"Yet  you  are  sure  that  it  must  needs  have  been 
your  own  particular  knight!" 

The  Queen  put  out  her  hand  and  drew  Etain  out 
to  face  her  from  where  she  was  cowering  behind  the 
chair,  and  the  other  women  began  to  laugh  and 
whisper,  a  little  ill-naturedly,  perhaps,  being  not 
displeased  at  having  a  chance  to  abash  the  Queen's 
favorite,  without  fear  of  her  displeasure. 

"Tell  us,  tell,  Etain!  Is  he  good-looking,  gallant, 
ardent?  Do  the  bards  know  him?  Oh  come,  no 
secrets !  What  is  his  clan  ?  " 

Etain  walked  away  a  little  and  looked  at  them 
with  her  head  held  high. 

"I  do  not  know  what  you  mean  at  all,"  she  said 
haughtily.  "I  think  it  is  to  the  King's  honor  that 
he  should  reward  those  who  deserve  it,  that  is  all." 

"Fie,"  tittered  the  Queen.  "Do  not  fear  that 
we  will  betray  you,  for  we  are  all  discreet;  neither 


THE  KING'S  FAVOR  171 

try  to  hoodwink  us,  for  we  have  been  girls  our- 
selves. Never  be  ashamed  of  your  likings.  Where 
did  you  first  meet  him  and  how?" 

Dathi,  laughing,  took  her  by  the  wrist. 

"We  are  in  place  of  your  foster-parents,"  he  said, 
"and  we  must  know  in  whom  you  take  an  interest. 
Tell  us  everything  and  perhaps  we  will  wink  at  it." 

Etain  pulled  away  from  him,  striking  with  all 
her  small  force  on  his  mighty  arms. 

"Let  me  go!"  she  panted.  "I  will  be  angry  in 
a  moment !  I  will  scratch,  I  swear  it !  Let  me  go ! " 

When  she  had  freed  herself  she  walked  away  a 
little  and  eyed  them  menacingly. 

"You  have  no  right,"  she  complained.  "I  take 
no  interest  in  him  whatever.  He  is  nothing  to  me." 

"If  that  is  true  we  will  have  him  in,"  cried  Dathi, 
enjoying  himself  to  the  utmost,  "for  it  can  make 
no  difference  to  you  one  way  or  the  other." 

"No!  no!"  screamed  Etain,  and  when  they  all 
burst  into  laughter  at  her,  she  hid  behind  the 
Queen's  chair  again  and  began  to  sniff  with  her 
wrist  at  her  eyes,  until  for  peace  sake  Nessa  haled 
her  forth,  and  the  King  bargained  with  her  that  the 
flaith  was  to  be  rewarded  and  that  it  was  to  be 
understood  that  Etain  took  no  interest  hi  the  matter 
whatever.  On  these  terms  she  came  out  with  her 
face  shining,  so  gay  and  captivating  that  Dathi 
seemed  inclined  to  enlarge  the  terms  of  their  agree- 
ment, and  would  have  amused  himself  longer  with 
her  girlish  artlessness  had  not  the  Queen  suddenly 
desired  food,  and  after  that  sleep. 


172          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

In  the  morning  the  High  King  appeared,  went  up 
to  the  treasure  heap,  picked  out  a  few  jewels  for 
the  Queen,  a  trinket  or  two  for  his  own  adorning, 
and  returned  to  his  tent,  and  hi  a  little  while  sent 
word  that  the  spoil  was  to  be  loaded  on  the  wagons 
and  sent  back  to  the  coast,  with  a  sufficient  guard, 
while  the  rest  of  the  army  would  proceed  with  its 
march. 

At  this  unlooked-for  command  surprise  became 
disaffection,  and  disaffection  approached  mutiny. 
The  ill-disciplined  bands  grumbled  hi  corners  and 
grew  brave  enough  at  last  to  send  a  deputation  to 
the  High  King  to  tell  him  they  would  go  no  farther. 
Dathi's  guards  drove  them  away  with  indignant 
threats,  but  the  malcontents  surrounded  the  pile 
and  swore  they  would  go  back  and  take  the  booty 
with  them.  They  had  one  of  the  lower  order  of 
bards  among  them,  who  composed  satires  against 
the  King,  which  all  took  up  with  avidity  and  sang 
in  chorus. 

The  flaiths  begged  to  be  allowed  to  fall  on  them 
with  spears,  and  Dathi  would  certainly  have  ordered 
it,  or  more  likely  given  them  to  torture,  had  he  not 
needed  every  man  he  had.  Besides  he  was  too 
politic  to  attempt  force  except  when  the  power  in 
his  hand  was  overwhehning.  Another  deputation 
was  received  with  no  more  than  a  calm  refusal  of 
their  demand  to  return,  and  he  treated  with  them 
so  adroitly  and  held  out  so  many  hopes  of  glory  and 
greater  plunder  that  at  length  they  were  persuaded 
to  stay  with  him,  although  he  was  forced  to  consent 


THE  KING'S  FAVOR  173 

that  the  booty  be  divided  and  every  man  receive 
his  share  on  the  spot. 

Conal  slept  through  most  of  this,  and  when  he 
wakened  he  was  in  such  a  weary  state  that  he  was 
content  to  lie  on  the  skins,  sip  wine,  and  watch  the 
life  and  movement  of  the  camp,  without  asking  why 
the  flaiths  gathered  on  one  side  and  the  common 
men  on  the  other,  or  what  was  the  meaning  of 
the  jeering  songs  which  were  being  bandied  about 
through  the  crowd.  Brian  came  after  a  little  and 
sat  down  beside  him.  The  old  soldier  was  beside 
himself  with  disgust  and  rage,  and  his  brow  was  so 
black,  and  he  spat  between  his  teeth  so  forcibly 
from  time  to  time  that  Conal  could  not  but  notice  it. 

"Something  is  amiss  with  you,  Brian,"  he  ven- 
tured feebly.  "Either  they  have  put  an  affront  on 
you  or  else  your  cloak  has  been  damaged  in  the 
fighting." 

"Truly  my  clothes  have  suffered,  and  they  were 
all  new,  every  stitch  gotten  since  we  left  Eirinn; 
but  it  is  not  that  which  vexes  me,  for  stuffs  as  good 
are  to  be  picked  up  anywhere  on  the  march.  It  is 
the  sight  of  those  scoundrels  yonder  picking  and 
choosing  whether  it  pleases  them  to  serve  the  King 
or  not.  If  I  had  my  way  I  would  soon  show  them 
how  a  warrior  understands  discipline.  Dathi  sickens 
me  with  his  softness.  The  sword  is  the  only  cure 
for  such  as  they.  I  abhor  disobedience  myself  and, 
in  spite  of  Dathi's  strict  orders,  I  am  minded  to 
shy  a  spear  into  the  midst  of  the  pack  and  see  how 
they  take  it." 


174         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

Conal  got  up  on  his  elbow  and  craned  his  neck 
to  see  better. 

"I  can  see  that  something  is  wrong.  Tell  me 
what  has  been  happening,  for  I  have  been  sleep- 
ing off  my  soreness." 

"Pretty  things  have  been  happening!  I  am 
ashamed  to  tell  you  of  them !  What  do  you  think 
of  righting  men  in  the  field  defying  the  High  King 
and  telling  him  they  will  follow  him  no  farther? 
And  Dathi  is  arguing  with  them  and  begging  them 
to  stay  instead  of  falling  upon  them  and  slaughter- 
ing every  mother's  son  of  them  where  he  stands. 
Pah !  it  sickens  me  so  that  I  spit  upon  the  ground !" 
Which  he  did  very  vigorously. 

"That  is  indeed  shameful,"  cried  Conal,  "and 
unheard  of  and  disgraceful — unless,  indeed,  some 
geasa  forbids  them  to  go  on." 

"Nothing  of  the  sort.  It  is  the  sight  of  loot  that 
has  turned  their  brains.  We  took  so  much  from 
these  Bocanochs  that  they  are  every  one  made  men, 
and  by  consequence  are  timid  about  trusting  their 
new-found  riches  to  the  chance  of  war;  a  plague 
eat  them!" 

"And  what  are  the  flaiths  doing?  and  the  battle 
leaders?" 

"What  can  they  do  but  stand  apart  and  look 
sour,  since  Dathi  has  forbidden  violence?" 

"At  any  rate,"  said  Conal  with  decision,  "we 
must  show  ourselves  among  the  loyal  men  less  some 
might  think  we  sided  with  the  rabble,  and  we  should 
share  their  dishonor.  Tell  them  to  bring  my  arms." 


THE  KING'S  FAVOR  175 

"Well,"  said  Brian,  "indeed  what  I  came  for — I 
had  forgotten  it  for  the  moment — was  to  bring  you 
word  that  Dathi  wishes  you  to  present  yourself  be- 
fore him  when  you  are  able.  I  do  not  know  what  he 
wants,  but  he  seems  in  good  temper,  and  perhaps 
he  is  minded  to  be  generous." 

"Come,  then,  we  will  go  to  him,"  said  Conal. 

Brian  had  to  help  him  to  rise,  for  his  cuts  were 
sore  and  every  muscle  ached,  but  once  erect  he  flung 
back  his  shoulders  gallantly  and  refused  further  as- 
sistance, declaring  that  he  felt  as  well  as  ever. 

The  whole  army  was  swarming  around  the  trea- 
sure pile  in  the  centre  of  the  camp.  The  division 
was  being  made  then  and  there.  A  number  of 
warriors,  chosen  for  their  known  fairness,  were 
making  little  heaps  of  it,  adding  a  golden  chain  to 
one,  taking  away  an  armful  of  weapons  from  an- 
other. The  High  King's  cushioned  seat  had  been 
set  up  to  one  side,  and  Dathi  himself  was  lounging 
in  it,  chatting  with  the  Queen,  as  unconcerned  as 
if  no  breath  of  sedition  had  ever  come  between  him 
and  his  men.  Nessa  sat  beside  him  on  a  lower  seat, 
and  his  officers  and  her  maidens  and  matrons  were 
gathered  about  them. 

Conal  and  Brian  paused  at  the  edge  of  the  crowd, 
and  after  a  moment  the  King  caught  sight  of  them 
and  raised  his  hand  in  peremptory  command. 

"Stop !    Let  that  young  flaith  come  forward." 

Every  one  turned  to  look  as  Conal  advanced  and 
presented  himself  before  the  King.  Outwardly  he 
was  cold  and  composed,  but  it  was  only  by  an  effort 


176         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

that  he  controlled  himself  and  hid  the  agitation 
within  him.  He  knew  that  Etain  must  be  among 
the  Queen's  attendants,  that  her  eye  might  be 
upon  him  even  then,  and  though  he  tried  to  rise 
above  the  feeling  and  tell  himself  that  it  was  the 
part  of  a  man  to  meet  scorn  with  scorn,  he  felt  the 
sting  of  recent  humiliation  too  strongly  to  be  at  ease. 

Dathi  rose  as  he  approached,  stepped  forward  a 
pace,  and  looked  at  him  in  a  friendly  fashion,  yet 
with  some  apparent  constraint. 

"You  are  the  man  who  came  to  my  help  last 
night  when  I  was  near  to  being  overcome  by  num- 
bers," he  said.  "It  was  close  work  there.  If  you 
had  not  been  ready  I  do  not  know  what  might  have 
happened.  Do  not  think  I  am  not  grateful  for 
your  readiness,  though  at  the  moment  I  let  you  go 
without  expressing  it." 

"Think  no  more  of  it,  Quick  One,"  answered 
Conal  readily.  "I  know  it  is  no  more  pleasant  to 
a  King  to  be  rolled  in  mud  than  to  any  one  else." 

The  High  King  smiled  somewhat  wryly. 

"It  is  true,  a  King  must  think  of  his  dignity.  All 
the  same,  I  owe  it  to  you  to  remember  your  bravery 
in  coming  to  my  help,  and  to  acknowledge  it  before 
all,  that  the  bards  may  note  it.  The  last  time  we 
met  I  left  you  with  a  threat.  Let  that  be  forgotten ; 
and  to  show  you  that  I  value  fidelity  and  courage,  I 
will  take  you  into  my  household  and  give  you  com- 
mand over  men,  and  before  these  riches  are  appor- 
tioned you  shall  have  your  pick  of  all  the  pile. 
Choose  what  you  will." 


THE  KING'S  FAVOR  177 

"Horses  from  the  horse  herd,"  cried  Conal  with- 
out hesitation. 

"A  knight's  choice!"  said  the  King,  standing  up 
and  clapping  him  on  the  shoulder.  "I  will  choose 
them  for  you  myself,  for  I  am  never  deceived  in 
horse-flesh." 

"I  am  a  fair  judge  of  horses  myself,"  thought 
Conal,  but  he  discreetly  kept  his  thought  to  himself. 

"Have  your  clansmen  drive  the  herd  past,  that 
we  may  see  their  paces,"  the  King  continued,  "for 
a  judge  of  horses  will  always  choose  to  see  them  in 
motion.  A  steed  is  valued  for  its  beauty,  its  speed, 
and  the  evenness  of  its  action — there  are  other 
points,  of  course,  that  must  be  looked  to,  defects 
and  blemishes  which  spoil  animals  otherwise  per- 
fect, but  one  cannot  learn  to  detect  them  at  once; 
experience  is  needed  for  that  which  time  will  give 
you." 

Conal  stirred  a  little  impatiently,  and  might  have 
said  something  in  defense  of  his  own  knowledge, 
had  he  felt  more  at  his  ease.  He  sent  his  men  after 
the  horses  as  the  King  commanded,  and  presently 
the  herd  appeared.  The  clansmen  were  driving 
them  with  blows  and  cries,  and  they  came  thunder- 
ing by,  a  tangle  of  tossing  heads,  bounding  bodies, 
and  flying,  slender  legs,  biting,  rearing,  squealing, 
and  lashing  out  to  right  and  left,  so  that  it  was  as 
hard  to  follow  any  single  horse  with  one's  eye  as  to 
pick  one  gnat  out  of  a  swarm  of  them. 

r<tThe  black  there,"  said  Conal  suddenly,  "and 
the  dun." 


178         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

In  an  instant  they  were  cut  out  of  the  herd,  hal- 
tered, and  led  up  trembling  and  sidling. 

The  High  King  looked  at  them  critically. 

"Truly,  they  appear  to  be  a  very  sightly  pair," 
he  admitted.  "And  I  believe  you  have  chosen  as 
well,  picking  them  blindly  in  that  way,  as  a  skilled 
fancier  could.  Now  we  must  find  a  command  for 
you.  Let  me  see.  The  capture  of  this  herd  gives 
us  an  opportunity,  for  we  could  not  bring  chariots 
and  horses  in  the  ships,  and  we  have  need  of  heavy 
troops  for  the  charge.  You  shall  form  a  chariot 
corps;  your  own  men  can  serve  with  you  if  they 
are  trained  to  the  work,  and  you  may  pick  up  a 
dozen  more,  a  man  here  and  there,  whoever  will 
offer  himself.  The  wagons  that  are  left  can  be  cut 
down  into  chariots." 

Conal  flushed  with  delight  and  thanked  the  King 
with  warmth,  and,  as  it  was  now  about  dark  and  the 
fires  were  beginning  to  glow,  he  took  his  leave  with 
the  others  who  were  not  of  the  High  King's  imme- 
diate attendants. 

He  walked  stiffly,  partly  because  of  his  sore 
wounds,  party  from  self-consciousness,  for  he  could 
see  men  pointing  at  him  as  he  passed  and  getting 
to  their  feet  to  look  after  him.  His  way  led  between 
the  tents  of  the  King's  household,  and  just  as  he  was 
passing  them  he  heard  some  one  running  and  breath- 
ing hard,  and  next  moment  Etain  came  quickly 
around  the  corner  of  the  tent  and  almost  stumbled 
into  his  arms. 

She  drew  back  at  once  and  stood  with  her  hands 


THE  KING'S  FAVOR  179 

on  her  bosom,  panting,  and  then,  after  trying  as 
hard  as  she  could  to  put  on  a  reserved  and  demure 
air,  threw  off  restraint  and  laughed  merrily. 

Conal  looked  at  her  with  a  stony  face  and  made 
as  if  to  go  by,  but  the  girl  barred  his  path,  looking 
so  confident  and  friendly  that  he  began  to  feel  ill 
at  ease  and  at  a  loss,  as  if  he  and  not  she  had  of- 
fended. She  had  never  looked  so  charming,  so 
dainty,  or  so  winning,  but  many  days  of  sore  thoughts 
and  raw  pride  had  left  him  thirsty  to  make  her  pay 
for  his  humiliation. 

"What  do  you  want  of  me?"  he  said  with  a  scowl. 

"  Only  to  say — why  do  you  look  at  me  so  queerly  ? 
Are  you  angry  with  me?" 

"  I  have  reason  enough  to  be  angry  if  it  mattered 
to  me,  but  it  does  not;  so  say  what  you  have  to 
say  and  let  me  go  on." 

The  girl  grew  more  sober  and  shook  her  head  at 
him  reprovingly. 

"It  is  foolish  to  get  a  temper  over  nothing,"  she 
admonished  him.  "Even  if  you  have  cause  for 
displeasure  you  need  not  scowl  so." 

"If  that  is  what  you  are  come  to  tell  me  you  may 
save  your  breath,"  said  Conal  shortly.  "The  time 
for  smiles  has  gone  by  as  far  as  you  and  I  are  con- 
cerned, and  I  am  waiting  to  hear  what  you  were 
going  to  tell  me,  for  no  doubt  you  have  some  mes- 
sage or  order." 

Etain  commenced  to  draw  the  side  of  her  foot 
along  the  ground. 

"You  are  making  it  very  hard,"  she  murmured, 


i8o         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

looking  down  as  if  timorously,  but  a  little  more  so 
than  was  altogether  natural.  "No  doubt  you  are 
quite  right  to  be  vexed  with  me,  but  if  I  beg  pardon 
very  nicely— with  my  hands  together — that  should 
be  enough  I  think." 

"There  is  no  question  of  pardon  between  us,  that 
I  know  of,"  Conal  answered  very  stiffly,  though  his 
anger  was  melting  fast  before  her  winsomeness, 
"and  I  have  learned  to  know  you  too  well  to  think 
that  you  would  humble  yourself.  You  expect  to 
come  over  me  with  smooth  talk,  but  I  know  now 
how  hollow  your  words  can  be." 

"How  brutal  you  are !  Do  you  think  it  is  well- 
mannered  to  speak  so  to  a  woman?" 

"It  was  no  very  courteous  thing  you  did  when 
you  walked  past  me  the  other  day  without  word 
or  look,"  Conal  grumbled. 

Doubtless  Etain  saw  that  his  anger  was  cooling 
and  that  every  moment  it  was  growing  harder  for 
him  to  maintain  his  air  of  injury  and  detachment, 
for  she  forgot  her  assumed  humility  and  answered 
him  hi  her  old  tone  of  bantering: 

"You  deserved  that.  You  could  not  Jiave  ex- 
pected me  to  be  gracious  to  you  after  the  way  you 
ran  away  from  the  fan*,  leaving  us  all  in  the  lurch. 
But  now  that  you  have  become  such  a  notable  per- 
son and  have  risen  so  high  in  the  favor  of  Kings, 
every  one  must  be  friends  with  you  at  their  peril." 

With  that,  all  Conal's  self-esteem  that  had  begun 
to  heal  under  her  blandishment  was  rubbed  raw 
again.  He  saw  hi  what  she  said  only  the  confirma- 


THE  KING'S  FAVOR  181 

tion  of  his  own  hasty  judgment  of  her.  He  was 
goaded  with  the  thought  that  she  had  been  willing 
to  abandon  him  in  his  misfortune  only  to  attempt  to 
call  him  back  so  boldly  as  soon  as  he  had  begun  to 
re-establish  himself.  He  turned  on  her  and  poured 
out  all  the  bitterness  that  had  been  brewing  within 
him. 

"You  are  frank  enough  in  all  conscience.  Hear 
me  while  I  speak  frankly,  too.  Do  you  think  friend- 
ship is  something  to  be  taken  off  and  put  on  again 
like  a  shoe?  Do  you  think  men  are  lap-dogs  to  be 
pushed  away  one  moment  and  whistled  back  the 
next?  Coaxing  and  wheedling,  quibbles  and  mock- 
ery, words,  words,  words !  There  is  not  a  grain  of 
truth  or  loyalty  in  you.  Fare  you  well.  I  am  done 
with  you  and  women  forever!" 

"Conal!"  cried  the  girl,  stepping  back  as  if 
stricken,  but  he  kept  on  as  if  he  did  not  hear  her. 

Some  one  heard  her,  though,  a  warrior  who  was 
coming  toward  them  between  the  tents.  At  the 
sound  of  the  name  he  stopped  short,  took  a  long 
look  after  Conal,  and  made  off  in  the  direction  from 
which  he  had  come. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
MARTIN  THE  STEWARD 

When  once  he  was  back  at  the  guest-house  again 
Mesgedra  lost  no  tune  in  sending  for  his  steward, 
a  Gaul  whom  Niall  the  High  King  had  given  him 
and  whom  he  thought  the  most  trustworthy  of  his 
servants.  Although  he  was  a  man  of  at  most  forty 
years,  fifteen  or  more  of  them  had  been  spent  in 
servitude,  and  there  was  nothing  about  his  speech 
or  dress  to  show  his  foreign  birth.  He  was  spare 
of  figure,  sallow  of  face,  sharp-eyed,  smooth  and  per- 
suading of  speech.  Ronan  was  disappointed  at  the 
sight  of  him,  thinking  that  he  was  hardly  the  man 
to  brave  difficulty  and  peril. 

"Hut!"  he  whispered  to  Mesgedra.  "Is  this  the 
fellow  you  would  have  scour  Gaul  in  search  of  Conal  ? 
He  is  worthy,  no  doubt,  and  useful  to  oversee  the 
granaries  and  make  tallies  of  cattle  sent  out  to 
graze,  but  he  could  never  serve  our  turn." 

"He  is  a  better  man  than  you  think,"  replied  the 
brugaid.  "But  talk  with  him  if  you  like  and  see 
what  his  answers  show  for  him." 

The  steward  had  come  into  the  room  and  was 
bowing  before  them,  and  Ronan  after  looking  him 
up  and  down  began  to  question  .him. 

182 


MARTIN  THE  STEWARD  183 

"What  are  you  called  ?  "  he  asked  to  begin  with. 

"My  name  is  Martin,"  answered  the  Gaul  readily, 
"but  since  I  served  the  High  King  once,  the  Scots 
call  me  Curigh — the  King's  watch-dog." 

"That  is  a  creditable  title  and  shows  you  are 
well  thought  of,"  Ronan  commented,  "besides  be- 
ing pleasanter  to  the  ear  than  your  own  name,  which 
has  an  uncouth  sound.  Mesgedra  tells  me  you  have 
served  him  well  and  faithfully." 

"He  has  been  a  kind  master  to  me.  I  hope  I 
deserve  his  good  words." 

"How  long  since  you  were  brought  here  from 
Gaul?"  Ronan  proceeded,  changing  his  tone  a  little. 

"In  the  late  years  of  Niall's  reign,  perhaps  a 
score  of  years  ago." 

"Have  you  ever  desired  to  return  to  your  own 
country?" 

The  Gaul  looked  at  the  ground  for  a  moment. 

"Time  brings  content,"  he  said,  speaking  with 
constraint.  "I  do  not  complain." 

"Listen,"  commanded  Mesgedra.  "From  this 
moment  you  are  free.  The  road  to  the  left  hand  as 
you  leave  the  guest-house  leads  to  the  coast  where 
you  may  find  merchant  ships  sailing  to  Gaul.  Here 
is  a  golden  chain  of  thirty  links,  each  link  half  an 
ounce  in  weight.  It  is  yours  for  the  costs  of  your 
journey.  And  now  let  us  talk  to  one  another  as 
free  man  to  free  man." 

The  Gaul  took  the  chain  but  said  nothing,  and 
indeed  seemed  more  incredulous  than  thankful. 

"I  have  need  of  a  man  for  a  hard  and  perilous 


1 84         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

service,"  went  on  the  brugaid.  "He  must  seek  out 
Dathi's  army  in  Gaul  wherever  it  may  be,  and  bear 
a  message  of  warning  to  a  young  flaith  who  is  with 
the  High  King.  I  put  no  compulsion  on  you.  If 
you  will  do  my  errand,  well.  If  not,  say  so  and  go, 
and  I  will  look  farther.  But  do  not  accept  the  ser- 
vice unless  you  will  be  faithful." 

"I  will  carry  the  message,"  said  the  Gaul  briefly. 

"There  will  be  foes  between  who  will  have  to 
be  reckoned  with." 

"  I  will  go  through  them.  Have  no  fear,  old  noble ; 
if  I  have  not  the  brute  force  of  your  race  I  have  the 
brains  of  my  own,  and  I  will  find  a  way." 

"Why,  I  begin  to  like  your  tone!"  Ronan  cried. 
"Freedom  is  a  good  spice  for  your  spirit.  That  last 
was  boasted  as  boldly  as  if  you  were  one  of  our  own 
swaggerers.  After  all,  I  can  see  that  you  are  the 
fellow  for  our  purpose.  Now,  we  are  trusting  you 
as  we  would  trust  few,  and  you  must  swear  to  keep 
faith  with  us,  and  no  common  oath  will  serve,  for  I 
have  heard  that  the  Gauls  have  mysteries  of  their 
own  to  swear  by,  and  that  is  the  security  we  ask." 

"I  will  swear  to  you  by  my  hope  of  salvation  to 
do  your  errand  faithfully,"  answered  the  Gaul  with- 
out hesitation,  "by  the  saints  and  the  apostles  and 
the  blessed  martyrs." 

"Those  are  all  good,  mouth-filling  oaths,"  said 
Mesgedra  somewhat  dubiously,  "though  I  am  not 
sure  that  we  are  any  the  better  for  them,  for,  for  the 
life  of  me,  I  cannot  tell  whether  they  are  sense  or 
nonsense.  Well,  what  matter  ?  I  trust  you  without 


MARTIN  THE  STEWARD  185 

them.  Now  I  will  give  you  the  message  and  a 
token,  and  you  must  get  yourself  away.  We  have 
lost  enough  time  as  it  is." 

Between  them  Mesgedra  and  Ronan  had  com- 
posed a  message  ambiguous  and  cryptic,  but  sure 
to  be  understood  by  Conal. 

They  repeated  it  to  the  Gaul  until  he  had  it  by 
heart,  gave  him  a  breastpin  of  Mesgedra's,  which  he 
had  often  worn  in  ConaPs  presence,  for  a  token, 
and  let  him  go.  He  lingered  for  a  moment  at  the 
door  and  returning  said  somewhat  shamefacedly: 

"The  lady  Etain  has  been  kind  to  me,  will  you 
tell  her  farewell  for  me?" 

"I  will  tell  her  certainly,"  answered  Mesgedra 
carelessly. 

The  Gaul  hesitated,  bowed  again,  and  took  him- 
self off. 

"Well,  we  have  done  our  best,"  said  Mesgedra. 
"The  rest  depends  on  fortune  and  the  faith  of  one 
of  a  nation  of  liars." 

"Why,  I  thought  you  trusted  him  from  what  you 
said."  ' 

"I  trust  him?  Not  a  whit.  I  put  the  best  face 
on  what  I  could  not  mend.  I  put  no  trust  in  him 
or  in  any  of  his  race,  and  what  made  me  doubt  him 
more  than  all  was  the  oath  he  took,  which  I  am  per- 
suaded was  mere  gibberish,  for  it  had  not  the  sound 
of  real  words  at  all." 

"At  any  rate,  even  if  he  fails  us  we  are  no  worse 
off  than  if  we  had  not  sent  him." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Mesgedra,  and  they  put 


1 86         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

Conal  and  care  out  of  their  minds  and  shared  a 
pitcher  of  ale  by  the  fire  in  the  hall. 

Martin  did  not  delay  but  mounted  and  set  out 
in  short  order.  He  made  directly  for  the  coast, 
and  with  the  help  of  a  few  links  of  Mesgedra's  chain, 
found  passage  in  one  of  the  trading  ships  that  still 
were  plying  in  spite  of  raids  and  hostilities. 

Accordingly,  the  people  of  the  little  fishing  port 
of  the  Veneti  were  given  cause  for  a  nine  days'  con- 
troversy over  a  ship  which  entered  the  harbor  only 
to  set  a  single  man  ashore,  and  that  man  one  who, 
though  he  was  dressed  in  the  fashion  of  the  Scots, 
showed,  when  he  was  accosted,  a  surprising  famil- 
iarity with  Gallic  invective,  coupled  with  an  ex- 
tremely dictatorial  manner,  which  soon  had  the  effect 
of  convincing  all  who  heard  him  that  he  was  a  per- 
son of  mysterious  importance,  with  whom  it  was 
best  not  to  interfere. 

He  did  not  stay  long  among  them.  When  he 
had  gotten  a  horse  and  a  change  of  clothing,  and  had 
changed  a  bit  of  gold  for  Roman  coin,  he  took  him- 
self off,  leaving  a  great  deal  of  unsatisfied  curiosity 
behind  him. 

He  travelled  as  fast  as  he  could  but  circumspectly. 
At  first  the  people  and  the  country  through  which 
he  passed  seemed  like  things  remembered  from 
dreams.  Glimpses  of  quiet  farmyards,  a  child's 
pet  name  on  the  lips  of  its  mother,  a  young  girl's 
provincial  head-dress  would  strike  some  chord  hi 
his  memory  violently  and  he  would  tremble  with 
unlooked-for  emotion.  Everything  was  strange  and 


MARTIN  THE  STEWARD  187 

unnaturally  striking;  the  most  common  things 
thrilled  him  most,  and  he  stared  with  incongruous 
interest  at  trivial  happenings,  seeing  in  them,  with 
an  uncanny  clarity,  things  unguessed  at  when  they 
or  their  like  were  familiar  to  him.  But  in  a  few 
days  it  was  the  present  which  seemed  real,  his  years 
of  captivity  which  seemed  shadowy  and  unsubstan- 
tial. Old  habits  insensibly  resumed  sway  over  him. 
His  tongue  played  smoothly  around  the  old-time 
turns  of  speech.  The  unaccustomed  garments  no 
longer  hampered  him,  and  in  taverns,  of  evenings, 
he  would  assert  himself  more  and  more  as  if  in  re- 
action from  the  studied  humility  that  he  had  long 
been  schooled  to. 

He  was  not  travelling  at  random.  Though  he 
lost  his  way  at  times,  he  asked  no  directions  but 
puzzled  out  the  true  road  for  himself  and,  tending 
always  to  the  northwestward,  came  at  last  to  the 
hills  overlooking  the  Loire.  He  checked  his  horse 
at  the  first  sight  of  the  river  and,  shielding  his  eyes 
with  his  hand,  searched  the  valley  expectantly. 
He  soon  found  what  he  sought  for,  the  still  smoking 
wreck  of  a  habitation,  burned,  and  abandoned  not 
many  hours  before,  and  at  the  sight  of  it  his  face 
lighted  with  self-satisfaction. 

"They  have  come  this  way,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"Burnt  rafters  and  tumbling  walls.  The  rascals! 
Well  I  know  their  sign  manual!  Well,  it  has  not 
been  hard  so  far.  There  remains  to  follow  them,  to 
enter  the  camp,  to  find  the  flaith,  and  give  him  the 
message.  Of  these  the  only  difficult  matter  is  to 


1 88         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

get  into  the  camp.  If  I  go  openly  they  may  not 
believe  my  story,  and  there  is  an  end  of  me.  To 
go  by  stealth  is  dangerous.  Their  sentries  do  not 
stop  to  parley,  and  my  hide  is  not  proof  against  steel 
blades.  That  needs  consideration." 

He  let  his  horse  pick  its  way  down  the  steep  track 
into  the  valley  and  began  to  follow  the  river  bank 
upward. 

All  that  day  and  most  of  the  next  he  kept  on  up 
the  valley.  Hourly  he  found  signs  to  show  him  he 
was  on  the  right  track;  here  a  broken  spear-shaft 
in  the  road,  a  cast-off  cloak  or  empty  wine-skin; 
there  a  meadow  spotted  evenly  with  black  patches, 
the  cold  embers  of  the  cooking  fires;  and  wherever 
the  ground  was  soft  he  could  trace  the  hoof -prints 
of  horses  and  the  deep,  straight  ruts  of  the  chariot- 
wheels. 

Sometimes  he  came  upon  dead  men,  stabbed  and 
stripped,  sprawling  in  the  sedges,  and  he  went  by 
them  with  his  face  turned  the  other  way.  Once  or 
twice  he  caught  sight  of  country  people  making 
away  from  him  over  the  fields,  but  very  few,  and 
none  accosted  him  or  let  him  come  near  enough  to 
speak  to  them.  There  was  something  threatening 
in  the  emptiness  of  the  valley.  Martin  began  to 
grow  uneasy  and  swore  irritably  at  his  horse,  at  the 
Scots  he  was  following,  at  the  people  who  had  fled, 
and  at  his  own  nervousness. 

On  the  second  day  he  came  unexpectedly  upon  a 
troop  of  legionaries  resting  in  the  middle  of  the  road. 
He  had  barely  time  to  recover  from  his  surprise  be- 


MARTIN  THE  STEWARD  189 

fore  he  was  in  the  middle  of  them,  with  a  brisk  officer 
at  his  stirrup  looking  at  him  curiously  and  waiting 
for  his  account  of  himself.  Martin  was  never  long 
at  a  loss  for  a  plausible  tale,  and  he  thought  it  best 
to  forestall  question. 

"Ho,  centurion!  What  news  have  you?  Are 
the  Scots  about?" 

"They  are  making  for  the  Province.  All  the  posts 
of  the  legions  are  coming  up  by  forced  marches  to 
head  them  off.  The  Huns  are  about,  too.  Better 
turn  back  if  you  are  bound  northward." 

"I  am  for  Au  'Dunum.  I  am  a  leather  mer- 
chant, and  I  must  be  there  for  the  count's  market- 
court." 

"The  roads  are  still  open  that  far,  but  you  had 
best  travel  with  us  for  protection." 

"Willingly,  if  you  will  let  me." 

"Follow  with  the  wagons,  then.  The  time  is  up, 
men.  Get  on  !  No  loitering !" 

Martin  fell  back  to  the  end  of  the  column  and  rode 
slowly  behind  it,  gnawing  his  lips  in  vexation  and 
uncertainty. 

"This  is  a  pretty  affair,"  he  complained  to  him- 
self at  last,  "after  I  had  gotten  on  so  well  thus  far, 
too.  It  makes  everything  a  hundred  times  harder, 
and  heaven  knows  the  rest  was  hard  enough  without 
it.  Now,  here  is  a  new  dilemma.  Suppose  I  get 
safely  into  the  camp  and  accomplish  my  business, 
the  Romans  will  either  catch  me  as  I  come  away  and 
kill  me  for  trafficking  with  the  Scots,  or  they  will 
pin  them  in  while  I  am  yet  with  them,  and  take  me 


igo         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

in  their  company.  Then  I  will  be  hanged  without 
doubt." 

His  face  grew  very  long  as  he  considered. 

"Another  thing.  If  I  do  not  warn  the  Scots  that 
the  Romans  are  after  them,  they  will  think,  when 
they  are  attacked,  that  I  have  betrayed  them.  If 
I  do  warn  them  and  the  Romans  discover  it —  One 
way  or  another,  I  can  see  hemp  dangling  for  me." 

From  the  look  of  his  face  the  prospect  was  an 
unpleasant  one. 

"After  all,"  he  resumed  presently,  "I  cannot  see 
that  I  owe  this  Conal  anything.  Law  is  law,  even 
if  it  be  pagan  law.  It  is  hard  that  I  must  run  into 
danger  to  save  him  from  a  fate  which  no  doubt  he 
richly  deserves.  'He  who  abets  crime  is  himself  a 
criminal/  and  by  helping  him  I  am  taking  all  his 
guilt  on  my  own  shoulders,  not  only  his  misdeeds  in 
his  own  country  but  his  offenses  against  Rome, 
'who'  as  my  schoolmaster  used  to  say  very  finely, 
'is  the  common  mother  of  us  all,' — all  except  the 
Scots,  that  is,  accursed,  bloodthirsty,  ravaging  race 
that  they  are — except  perhaps  Mesgedra  and  cer- 
tainly the  lady  Etain. 

"Now,  an  oath  is  an  oath,  and  I  have  sworn  one, 
and  I  will  keep  it.  Nevertheless  it  is  surely  not 
necessary  to  do  more  than  keep  it.  Did  I  swear  to 
warn  him  to-day?  No,  nor  to-morrow  either.  I 
will  warn  him,  I  said,  which  means  in  a  convenient 
time  and  season.  'There  will  be  enemies,'  said 
Mesgedra.  So  there  are,  Huns  and  the  like;  but  I 
did  not  bargain  for  legionaries.  'All  the  posts  are 


MARTIN  THE  STEWARD  191 

coming  up,'  the  centurion  said.  The  roads  will  be 
full  of  them.  Pah !  It  must  be  put  off." 

He  rode  on  in  gloomy  silence  for  a  time. 

"The  first  thing  to  be  done  is  to  give  this  troop 
the  slip.  The  road  bends  beyond  there,  and  if  I 
am  cautious  it  can  be  done." 

He  let  himself  fall  behind  little  by  little,  watched 
sharply  until  the  last  soldier  had  turned  the  corner, 
and  then  turned  off  onto  the  turf  where  he  made 
no  noise,  and  whipped  his  horse  into  a  run.  After 
a  half -hour's  gallop  he  considered  himself  safe,  slowed 
his  pace,  and  went  on  leisurely,  debating  with  him- 
self all  the  time.  At  last  he  came  to  a  conclusion. 

"It  must  be  put  off.    There  is  no  other  way." 

The  next  little  brook  he  crossed  he  quietly  dropped 
Mesgedra's  token  into  it  and  rode  speedily  on  down 
the  valley. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
THE  KING'S  AMBITION 

And  so  with  a  little  graver  face,  a  little  increase 
of  curtness  and  reticence,  Conal  turned  to  what  was 
nearest  at  hand,  to  win  forgetfulness  in  action. 

He  flung  himself  heart  and  soul  into  the  work  of 
gathering  and  training  his  corps  of  chariot  fighters. 
Besides  his  own  men,  he  picked  nearly  forty  from  the 
volunteers  who  offered,  the  best  men  the  army  could 
boast  of,  outside  of  the  flaiths  and  the  clansmen  who 
followed  their  own  chiefs.  Then  there  were  drivers 
to  be  selected,  and  these  had  to  be  men  trained  to 
their  task,  for  much  of  the  effect  of  this  manner  of 
fighting  would  depend  on  their  skill.  Horses  also 
had  to  be  chosen  from  the  herd  and  taught  to  an- 
swer to  the  touch  of  the  rod  and  to  bite  and  strike 
with  their  hoofs  at  the  word  of  command,  and  there 
was  work  to  be  done  overseeing  the  captive  Gauls 
who  were  converting  the  wagons  into  chariots. 
These  were  for  his  followers;  the  High  King's  own  ar- 
tificers shaped  Conal's  car  of  bent  yew  and  white 
wicker  and  decorated  his  horses'  trappings  with 
silver  and  red  bronze. 

In  the  evenings  he  brought  his  difficulties  to  Brian 
for  counsel,  and  the  old  warrior  encouraged  him  for 

192 


THE  KING'S  AMBITION  193 

his  pains  and  freely  gave  him  the  benefit  of  his 
hard-won  mastery  of  the  trade  of  arms,  instructing 
him  in  the  approved  practise  of  chariot  righting  and 
warning  him  of  the  problems  that  beset  commanders. 
He  poured  out  ever  fresh  stores  of  precept  and  exam- 
ple, with  instances  from  the  whole  field  of  his  memory, 
and  Conal  never  grew  tired  listening  to  him,  for  no 
bard  he  had  ever  heard  could  picture  the  march  of 
glorious  warriors,  long  dead,  the  shock  of  war  and 
the  splendor  of  the  past  as  well  as  Brian. 

Besides  these  occupations,  he  spent  much  time  in 
the  High  King's  presence,  for  Dathi  sent  for  him, 
in  and  out  of  season,  to  talk  to  him  about  his  plans 
and  preparations,  or  draw  him  on  to  discuss  the 
happenings  of  the  camp  and  the  characters  and 
capacities  of  the  warriors  and  captains.  He  seemed 
impressed  by  the  young  warrior's  parts  and  pleased 
with  his  diligence  and  gave  him  more  and  more  of 
his  countenance,  so  that  Conal  little  by  little  was 
encouraged  to  assume  a  great  many  functions  that 
belonged  to  no  one  in  particular,  and  was  intrusted 
with  responsibilities  of  divers  sorts  and  a  more  or 
less  vague  authority.  The  High  King's  favor  could 
not  go  unnoticed  hi  the  camp,  and  though  some 
cavilled  and  hinted  that  there  was  a  thought  too 
much  of  arrogance  and  ostentation  about  the  young 
captain,  for  the  most  part  his  pride  and  aloofness 
were  easily  pardoned  and  even  won  him  admirers 
among  those  who  loved  to  see  a  man  bear  himself 
well,  or  who  flattered  themselves  on  having  a  lordly 
commander. 


194         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

His  nearness  to  the  High  King  did  not  fail  to 
bring  him  often  into  the  Queen's  presence,  where  he 
would  see  Etain  sometimes.  Though  he  feared  these 
meetings,  he  endured  them,  persuading  himself  al- 
ways that  in  time  he  would  come  to  think  nothing 
of  them,  while  she  would  pass  and  repass  him,  ob- 
livious, not  even  paying  him  the  notice  of  drawing 
back  her  sleeve  as  she  passed,  until  the  other  maidens 
were  convinced  at  length  that  Etain  had  truly  no 
concern  in  the  young  captain's  fortunes,  which  no 
doubt  cost  her  something  in  their  opinions. 

As  soon  as  the  chariots  were  made,  the  King  was 
ready  and  they  took  the  road  to  the  east  again,  fol- 
lowing the  valley  of  the  Loire.  They  travelled 
more  like  pleasure  seekers  going  to  a  fair  or  on  an 
outing  than  like  a  host  on  its  march.  The  warriors 
foraged  and  feasted,  and  the  rear-guard  loitered  in 
the  villages.  When  the  warriors  were  tired  of  the 
road  they  would  strike  out  over  the  meadows,  each 
band  picking  its  own  course  and  hardly  coming  up 
at  night.  The  Queen  and  her  ladies  rode  leisurely 
along  in  their  litters.  They  would  halt  two  or 
three  times  a  day  to  bathe  at  a  stream  or  to  sleep 
in  the  shade.  They  had  always  an  escort  of  flaiths 
and  young  courtiers,  and  there  was  singing  galore, 
and  not  a  little  love-making  on  the  sly. 

Conal  had  done  much  already  toward  training  his 
horses  in  the  fashion  of  the  Scots,  and  what  with 
the  handsome  steeds,  the  fine  chariot,  and  his  own 
good  presence,  his  appearance,  as  he  drove  along  at 
the  head  of  his  battalion,  gave  great  pride  and  satis- 


THE  KING'S  AMBITION  195 

faction  to  his  clansmen,  and  he  himself  enjoyed  his 
distinction  greatly  and  liked  to  show  the  paces  of 
his  horses  before  the  army.  He  had  no  part  in  the 
jollity  but  kept  soberly  to  his  work  and  saw  that 
his  company  kept  to  theirs;  and  if  his  strictness 
made  his  subordinates  grumble,  it  did  him  good  ser- 
vice with  Dathi. 

The  High  King  sent  for  him  in  his  tent  one  night 
after  the  day's  march,  and  when  they  were  alone 
began  to  banter  him,  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do 
with  those  who  were  in  his  favor,  when  he  was  in  a 
good  humor. 

"I  marked  you  to-day,  putting  yourself  forward 
with  all  your  glitter  and  show.  It  dazzled  the  eye 
to  look  at  you.  And  have  you  seen  Brian's  new 
mantle  he  has  made  from  the  cloth  he  got  from  the 
camp  of  the  Bocanochs  ?  It  trails  on  the  ground  an 
arm's  length  behind  him.  Between  the  two  of  you 
and  the  women,  we  are  becoming  a  school  of  finery. 
Gaudy  show  is  everything  to  you,  and  I  can  see 
that  the  whole  army  is  beginning  to  be  anxious 
about  its  clothes." 

"We  follow  our  leader  in  all  things,"  said  Conal 
with  assumed  humility. 

"You  have  always  an  answer,  and  usually  an  im- 
pudent one,"  cried  Dathi  good-humoredly.  "Truth 
to  tell,  I  do  like  to  see  a  battle  leader  properly 
caparisoned.  It  is  a  thing  men  respect,  even  those 
who  cannot  attain  it  themselves,  and  it  shows  a 
proper  pride  and  a  gay  spirit  such  as  a  champion 
should  have.  I  would  have  a  man  go  to  battle  as 


196         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

to  a  feast.  The  best  warriors  are  the  spruce  ones; 
Brian,  for  instance. 

"Your  men,  too,  made  a  good  appearance.  The 
spearmen  seemed  stout  fellows,  and  the  charioteers 
handled  their  horses  smartly.  You  have  done  well 
with  them  in  such  a  short  time." 

"Brian  has  been  helping  me,"  replied  Conal  mod- 
estly. "And  my  own  clansmen  were  there  to  set 
the  example  to  the  others;  they  are  all  apt  and  de- 
pendable." 

"Yes,  I  have  seen  that,  and  they  are  devoted  to 
you  as  men  should  be  to  their  chief.  You  are  a 
lucky  lad  to  start  your  life  with  such  a  troop  at 
your  back.  What  is  your  family,  by  the  way,  and 
by  what  name  is  your  sturdy  clan  called?" 

"They  are  called  the  Children  of  the  Raven,"  re- 
plied Conal  cautiously. 

"I  knew  of  a  clan  of  that  name  in  Connaught, 
once  very  prosperous,  though  never  powerful.  Is 
it  possible  that  yours  is  the  same?  I  should  have 
thought  from  your  speech  that  you  were  of  Ulster." 

"I  was  fostered  in  Ulster,"  said  Conal  uneasily. 

"And  how  comes  it  that  they  should  have  made 
you  chief  ?  You  are  brave,  but  you  are  young,  and 
you  have  never  seen  war  before." 

"There  was  no  one  else  to  choose.  All  those  who 
had  a  better  right  than  I  were  killed  in  a  dun- 
burning." 

"  I  remember  that.  I  was  having  my  own  troubles 
at  the  tune.  But  that  was  nearly  ten  years  past. 
You  must  have  been  made  chief  at  an  early  age." 


THE  KING'S  AMBITION  197 

Conal  answered  nothing,  hoping  that  Dathi  would 
be  satisfied  and  pass  to  another  subject.  The  High 
King's  questions  troubled  him,  for,  though  he  had 
been  smiling  agreeably  all  the  time,  his  eyes  had  fol- 
lowed Conal's  searchingly,  and  he  had  missed  no 
change  of  the  boy's  color  or  expression.  However,  he 
said  no*  more  for  a  little  while,  but  looked  at  Conal 
thoughtfully  and  rather  quizzically,  fingering  the 
ornaments  on  his  breast. 

"I  am  sure  you  do  not  take  my  prying  in  bad 
part,"  he  said  at  last.  "  I  am  your  friend,  you  know, 
and  it  is  well  for  a  King  to  know  as  much  as  he  can 
about  those  who  surround  him;  it  shows  him  how 
he  may  best  oblige  them,  if  nothing  more." 

"I  do  not  mind,"  answered  Conal  hastily,  for  he 
feared  that  hesitation  might  be  misjudged.  "My 
affairs  can  be  of  little  importance  to  the  High  King, 
but  I  am  glad  to  tell  you  whatever  you  may  have  an 
interest  in." 

"I  am  sure  there  is  nothing  in  your  life  you  need 
feel  shame  over,"  said  Dathi,  looking  at  him  more 
searchingly  than  ever.  "  But  tell  me,  for  I  am  really 
curious  over  it,  what  was  the  true  cause  of  your 
quarrel  with  Firbis?" 

Conal  sprang  to  his  feet  in  dismay,  for  with  that 
question  the  last  remnant  of  his  trust  in  Etain  was 
ground  to  powder,  and  all  his  security  vanished. 
He  realized  in  despair  that  it  was  impossible  to  re- 
sist an  army,  useless  to  fly  into  the  midst  of  enemies. 
But  when  he  looked  at  the  King  he  took  heart  again, 
seeing  that  there  was  no  threat  but  only  mockery 


ig8         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

in  his  face,  and  that  he  had  made  no  movement  to 
call  for  guards. 

"Sit  down,  lad,  and  tell  your  tale,"  said  Dathi 
with  authority.  Conal  obeyed,  and  told  the  whole 
story  with  simple  frankness,  even  to  his  fight  with 
Brian.  Dathi  watched  him  narrowly  as  he  talked, 
and  when  he  had  done,  bent  over  to  him  and  clapped 
him  familiarly  on  the  shoulder. 

"Well  done!"  he  declared.  "Never  fear  that  I 
shall  blame  you  for  that  blow,  and  if  I  do  not,  who 
else  will  dare?  Powerful  as  the  law  may  be  in 
Eirinn,  salt  water  weakens  it,  and  in  Gaul  my  word 
is  stronger.  You  are  safe  with  me,  I  say,  and  in- 
deed you  deserved  my  favor  as  much  by  what  you 
did  to  Firbis  as  by  what  you  have  since  done  for 
me.  I  know  him  well.  If  it  was  not  he  himself 
that  murdered  my  uncle,  Niall,  it  was  one  of  his 
province,  and  the  whole  treacherous  pack  of  them 
was  privy  to  it.  After  NialTs  death  again  he  was 
one  of  those  who  most  opposed  me,  and  it  was  by 
his  efforts  chiefly  that  I  was  kept  so  long  from  the 
throne.  And  so  you  smote  him  in  the  midst  of  the 
fair !  Well,  indeed !  You  did  nobly,  both  for  your 
own  honor  and  my  interests.  No,  indeed !  Be  at 
ease,  I  will  not  let  them  take  you." 

"But  when  this  foray  is  over,"  suggested  Conal, 
"will  your  protection  still  cover  me  when  we  return 
to  Eirinn?" 

Dathi  looked  thoughtful. 

"  That  is  not  so  easy.  Even  I  find  it  hard  to  over- 
rule the  law  in  such  cases.  It  might  be  done  if  you 


THE  KING'S  AMBITION  199 

had  rank  and  a  few  hundred  spears  of  your  own, 
and  I  do  not  say  that  it  is  impossible  as  it  is.  In 
time  the  thing  may  blow  over  to  some  extent  so 
that  you  might  return  under  my  protection.  There 
will  be  time  enough  to  think  of  that,  though,  and 
moreover " 

He  paused  for  a  time  and  looked  at  Conal  side- 
wise,  evidently  weighing  his  discretion  against  some 
secret  that  he  was  minded  to  trust  him  with.  He 
opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  thought  better  of  it, 
took  a  turn  about  the  tent,  and  came  back  again. 

"I  have  a  better  destiny  in  store  for  you,"  he  said 
at  last,  "than  creeping  back  to  Eirinn  under  the 
cloud  of  the  law  and  ruling  over  fourteen  families 
and  a  dozen  ploughlands.  But  first  swear  that  you 
will  not  betray  my  confidence." 

They  were  alone  in  the  tent  and  the  door  was 
guarded,  nevertheless  Dathi  looked  well  about  him 
after  Conal  had  sworn  and  raised  the  flap  of  the 
tent  to  make  sure  that  the  guards  were  at  a  dis- 
creet distance  before  he  went  on. 

"For  what,  do  you  think,  did  I  come  to  Gaul?" 
he  asked  at  last. 

"For  glory  and,  no  doubt,  with  an  eye  to  riches  as 
well,"  ventured  Conal. 

"  So  all  the  others  think,  and  it  is  by  putting  for- 
ward one  or  the  other  of  these  reasons  that  I  have 
drawn  men  to  follow  me,  and  it  is  true  that  they  are 
powerful  baits,  but  it  needs  something  more  than 
the  fame  that  is  to  be  gained  in  a  chance  squabble 
or  the  wealth  that  is  to  be  gotten  in  a  hasty  raid  to 


200         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

draw  me  from  home.  I  have  seen  fifteen  years  of 
war;  I  have  gold  enough  in  Cruachan  to  plate  the 
walls  of  the  Mead-drinking  Hall.  But  there  is 
something  more  solid  than  renown,  more  satisfying 
than  riches.  Power  is  what  Kings  prize,  and  it  is 
to  win  a  mastery  greater  than  any  that  Scottish 
King  has  held  before  now  that  I  have  come  over- 
seas. 

"Here  is  a  land  rich  and  weak.  I  have  seen  the 
Romans  draw  back  their  boundaries  year  by  year. 
Their  power  is  rotting  away,  and  it  is  only  the  force 
of  their  great  name  that  holds  then-  empire  together. 
The  Saxons  nibble  on  one  side,  the  Scots  gnaw  on  the 
other.  There  was  once  a  sloe-tree  heavy  with  fruit, 
that  stood  in  a  field  unwatched.  The  birds  came 
and  pecked  at  the  fruit,  a  berry  here,  a  berry  there, 
but  presently  a  man  came  and  gathered  up  all  the 
fruit  in  his  cloak  and  carried  it  away. 

"I  am  the  man,  and  this  country  is  the  sloe.  I 
will  make  a  conquest  here,  and  a  permanent  settle- 
ment as  Niall  did  hi  Alban. 

"That  is  the  destiny  I  plan  for  you,  and  for  each 
one  who  follows  me  and  is  faithful :  to  be  King  of  a 
great  tuath  in  this  pleasant  land,  for  I  intend  that 
Gaels  shall  rule  here  forever." 

Conal  was  intoxicated  by  the  vastness  of  the 
King's  design,  and  he  panted  at  the  prospect  of 
being  one  of  those  whose  names  would  be  linked 
with  the  memory  of  such  a  feat  of  arms. 

"Whether  reward  comes  afterward  or  not,"  he 
cried,  "be  sure  that  I  will  never  fail  you,  but  will 


THE  KING'S  AMBITION  201 

follow  where  you  lead  until  Gaul  is  under  your 
heel." 

The  High  King  smiled  on  him  approvingly. 

"You  have  not  asked  me  how  I  solved  your  secret," 
he  said,  leaning  back  with  a  satisfied  air  and  putting 
on  an  expression  of  self-conscious  shrewdness.  "  Few 
things  Escape  me,  eh?  It  is  lucky  I  did  not  guess 
as  much  when  you  outfaced  me  on  the  steps  there, 
for  you  would  have  fed  crows  if  I  had." 

ConaPs  face  turned  sober  and  his  ardor  cooled  a 
little. 

"It  is  easy  to  guess  who  told  you,"  he  said  grimly. 
"Let  us  pass  that  by,  for  it  does  not  bear  talking  of." 

"It  is  better  so,"  the  King  agreed.  "It  has  done 
you  no  harm,  and  you  must  forget  it,  for  I  cannot 
have  you  going  about  looking  for  revenge.  Remem- 
ber, I  will  not  let  them  have  you." 

With  that  he  grasped  Conal's  hand,  charged  him 
once  more  not  to  reveal  what  he  had  been  told,  and 
dismissed  him. 

After  he  had  gotten  well  away,  Dathi  went  to  the 
tent  door  and  called  to  his  guards. 

"Send  in  the  men  who  are  waiting — the  Leinster- 
men." 

Two  men  appeared  almost  at  once,  and  after  they 
had  entered  he  let  the  draperies  fall  behind  them, 
and  turned  to  face  them.  They  were  clearly  people 
of  no  great  rank  and  unused  to  be  in  the  presence  of 
Kings,  for  they  saluted  him  awkwardly  and  stood 
shifting  their  weight  from  foot  to  foot  and  changing 
their  spears  from  one  hand  to  the  other.  They  were 


202          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

evil-looking  fellows,  both  of  them,  odd  persons  to 
be  having  audience  with  the  High  King  by  night. 

"I  have  changed  my  mind,"  said  Dathi  abruptly. 
"You  cannot  have  him,  after  all;  now,  at  any  rate. 
He  is  useful  to  me,  and  I  will  have  need  of  him." 

"Firbis  will  not  be  pleased  at  that,"  said  one  of 
them  in  a  gruff  tone,  "and  when  Firbis  is  displeased 
the  tribes  of  Leinster  are  offended.  Better  think 
twice,  Sir  King.  The  Leinster  tribute  will  be  falling 
due,  and  it  may  be  troublesome  to  get  it  without 
Firbis's  good- will." 

"I  have  never  had  good-will  from  Firbis  yet," 
said  the  King  grimly.  "But  I  did  not  call  you  here 
to  wrangle  with  you.  You  cannot  have  him,  I  say, 
and  see  that  you  remember.  I  will  have  no  arrow- 
shooting  or  midnight  murders,  either.  If  Conal 
comes  to  harm  while  you  are  with  me,  I  will  have 
your  skin  torn  from  you.  Mark  that." 

"We  have  come  far  for  nothing,  it  seems,"  said 
the  spearman  in  a  more  humble  tone.  "Well,  we 
must  go  back  as  we  came,  I  suppose,  but  one  young 
sprig's  life  seems  a  small  thing  when  it  is  a  question 
of  winning  all  Leinster  to  your  side." 

"And  losing  all  Ulster,"  Dathi  muttered.  " Mind, 
I  speak  only  of  the  present.  Later  I  may  be  willing 
to  oblige  Firbis.  I  do  not  say.  Only  do  you  stay 
and  be  at  hand.  After  I  have  gotten  what  I  wish 
from  him,  your  turn  may  come.  Keep  your  own 
counsel.  If  I  want  you  I  will  send  for  you." 

He  waved  them  out  with  his  hand  and,  crossing 
over,  lay  down  on  his  couch. 


THE  KING'S  AMBITION  203 

As  Conal  went  back  to  his  own  place  he  was  in 
a  fever  of  enthusiasm  over  the  future  that  the  High 
King's  promise  had  opened  to  him.  In  one  sense 
he  despised  lands  and  fortune,  or  rather  thought  of 
them  as  the  inevitable  rewards  of  successful  daring, 
and  things  to  be  valued  chiefly  as  tokens  of  valorous 
achievement.  After  his  flight  from  Tailtenn  he  had 
never  thought  regretfully  of  the  loss  of  the  wealth 
which  had  been  his,  nor  was  he  now  elated  at  the 
prospect  of  future  riches.  Nor  did  he  care  for  the 
power  that  rests  on  force  alone,  but  for  the  power 
that  is  the  consequence  of  championship  he  would 
have  dared  anything.  To  such  a  mind  the  chance 
of  sharing  in  an  exploit  which,  if  successful,  would 
raise  those  who  had  part  in  it  to  rank  with  the 
legendary  heroes,  and  which,  whether  successful  or 
not,  from  its  very  boldness  would  place  them  on 
imperishable  heights  of  fame,  had  an  irresistible 
attraction. 

He  pictured  to  himself  how,  in  generations  to 
come,  whole  tribes  would  be  named  for  him  and  his 
fellows,  whole  cycles  of  epics  would  tell  of  their 
exploits.  To  a  great  Gaelic  nation  spread  over  this 
rich  continent,  their  names  would  be  synonyms  of 
adventure,  heroism,  and  patriarchal  power.  In  a 
new  Tailtenn,  in  ages  to  come,  games  and  feasts 
would  renew  the  memory  of  their  place  of  sepulchre 
and  refresh  their  spirits. 

It  occurred  to  him,  certainly,  to  question  why  he 
was  chosen  for  the  High  King's  confidence,  and  hi 
this  regard  he  did  not  deceive  himself.  If  he  was 


204         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

brave  and  active  there  were  others  around  Dathi 
whose  valor  had  been  tested  on  stricken  fields  and 
whose  training  in  arms  had  been  finished  and  per- 
fected while  he  was  yet  practising  at  a  mark.  True, 
the  King  owed  him  gratitude  for  saving  his  life,  but 
he  had  already  given  him  a  more  material  reward 
for  that.  He  knew,  too,  that  he  had  so  far,  be  his 
ambitions  what  they  might,  shown  no  abilities  so 
extraordinary  as  to  demand  Dathi's  attention. 

He  did  not  realize  that  the  enthusiasm  of  youth 
and  the  blind  fidelity  that  belongs  to  youthful 
ideals  were  the  merits  he  had  to  offer,  and  that  it 
was  these  that  Dathi  wished  to  win  to  his  service; 
but  recognizing,  in  some  measure,  what  were  the 
ways  in  which  he  could  best  commend  himself  to  the 
King,  he  vowed  inwardly  to  dedicate  his  efforts  to 
the  monarch's  ends  and  to  be  faithful  in  all  things 
to  death. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
THE  SWORD  OF  THE  SKIES 

After  a  few  days  of  rapid  marching,  blue  summits 
began  to  lift  against  the  line  of  the  sky,  until  a  lofty 
range  raised  itself  across  their  path.  For  some  tune 
past  Dathi  had  repressed  useless  pillage  and  cruelty, 
so  that  the  simple  inhabitants  of  the  foothills,  who 
had  no  great  wealth,  saw  no  reason  to  fear  the  army 
and  did  not  flee  at  its  approach.  It  was  not  hard  to 
persuade  some  of  them  to  accompany  the  Scots  as 
guides,  for  a  little  distance,  nor  to  secure  others 
when  these  wished  to  return.  With  this  help  the 
army  threaded  its  way  speedily  through  the  valleys 
and  pastures  and  breasted  the  higher  slopes.  The 
fields  and  meadows  drifted  away  below  and  the 
thick  pines  of  the  forest-crowned  heights  received 
them. 

The  neglected,  but  still  excellent,  'military  road 
was  passable  as  well  for  their  chariots  and  wagons 
as  for  the  footmen,  and  in  a  single  march  they 
reached  the  top  of  the  pass,  wound  their  way  through 
it,  and  emerged  on  the  farther  slope.  The  light  of 
the  sky  showing  between  the  tree  trunks  first  told 
them  that  the  barrier  was  passed;  in  another  mo- 
ment the  road  turned  sharply,  the  mountain  wall 

205 


206         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

fell  almost  sheer  from  under  their  feet,  and  a  new 
province,  even  more  beautiful  than  those  through 
which  they  had  passed,  rolled  into  the  distance  be- 
low them. 

But  who  among  them  had  eyes  for  those  beauties, 
who  counted  the  close-set  towns  or  followed  the 
windings  of  the  broad  rivers,  when  once  their  eyes 
had  travelled  to  the  far  horizon?  Hung  in  the  air 
like  delicate  pyramids  of  cloud  substance,  white 
against  the  sky  as  only  clouds  and  snow  are  white, 
the  caps  of  distant  mountains  flashed  in  the  sun. 
Below,  their  sides  faded  colorlessly  into  the  gray 
haze,  so  that  they  seemed  to  swim  unsupported  in 
the  upper  air.  Rank  after  rank,  diminishing  to 
points  of  light,  fading  to  triangles  of  pale  gauze,  they 
floated,  triumphant,  remote,  serenely  inaccessible. 
The  Gaels  thought  that  they  saw  before  them  the 
walls  of  the  world. 

Dathi,  not  unmoved,  neither  dismayed,  breathed 
deeply  looking  at  them. 

"And  what  are  those?"  he  said  to  the  guide  softly. 

"The  Grecian  Alps,  mighty  Scot." 

"Have  any  ever  passed  them?" 

"Many  every  year,  coming  and  going,  whenever 
the  passes  are  open.  The  merchants  with  their 
goods  as  well  as  the  legions." 

"And  what  lies  beyond?" 

"Farther  Gaul,  and  then  Italy,  the  land  of  Caesar, 
whom  you  call  King  of  All  the  World." 

"Of  all  the  world  except  Eirinn,"  cried  Dathi. 
"And  I  who  am  King  of  Eirinn  will  dare  that  King 


THE  SWORD  OF  THE  SKIES  207 

in  his  dun.  Where  merchants  go  for  profit  we  can 
follow  for  glory.  Forward!" 

The-  warriors  sprang  onward  with  a  shout,  the 
chariot  horses  lunged  in  their  traces,  and  the  col- 
umn, pushing  down  the  mountain,  poured  out  on  the 
plain  below. 

Here  was  a  favored  land  indeed,  where,  until  that 
day,  the  foot  of  an  invader  had  never  trod  since  the 
King  of  the  World  first  ruled  Gaul.  The  whole 
country  was  given  over  to  the  vine  and  olive;  the 
villas  were  extensive  and  magnificent  beyond  any 
they  had  seen  along  the  Loire;  the  cities  large  and, 
for  the  most  part,  entirely  unfortified.  Set  between 
the  two  ranges,  the  province  had  in  the  past  depended 
for  its  safety  on  their  height  and  on  the  presence 
of  the  legions,  whose  winter  quarters  had  been  estab- 
lished here  as  long  as  Rome  still  had  legions  to  spare 
for  guarding  the  outposts  of  the  empire. 

As  they  forded  the  first  of  the  streams  that  water 
these  regions  they  encountered  the  first  sign  they 
yet  had  seen  of  any  activity  on  the  part  of  the  Roman 
power.  They  were  met  by  a  small  group  of  Gaulish 
officials,  who  asked  audience  with  the  High  King 
for  the  purpose  of  arranging  an  interview  between 
him  and  the  count  of  the  province.  Dathi  agreed 
to  this  readily,  but  affected  to  misunderstand  their 
further  request,  that  he  should  halt  where  he  was 
until  the  parley  had  taken  place.  He  continued  to 
move  forward  until  he  had  cleared  his  flank  from  the 
hills  and  pitched  his  camp  finally  near  a  good- 
sized  town,  where,  he  was  told,  the  count  awaited 


208         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

him,  and  there,  after  such  a  delay  as  suited  his  idea 
of  his  dignity,  the  Roman  sought  him. 

He  came  in  a  covered  litter,  furnished  with  great 
display  and  borne  by  well-trained  and  costly  Iberian 
mules.  He  was  attended  chiefly  by  sleek  and  timor- 
ous black  mutes,  one  or  two  of  whom  bore  fasces 
after  the  fashion  of  the  antique  lictors.  A  poor 
half  dozen  of  soldiers  in  the  uniform  of  legionaries, 
and  a  score  of  barbarian  auxiliary  troops  made  up 
the  number  of  his  escort,  and  of  these  only  the  bar- 
barians made  any  very  formidable  showing  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Scots. 

The  count  was  a  tall,  fleshy  man  of  fifty,  or  per- 
haps five  years  more.  His  lips  and  chin  were  shaven 
clean,  his  hair  cut  short  over  his  ears,  and  he  had 
the  shame  of  baldness  on  him.  His  complexion  was 
sallow  and  pimply,  and  the  skin  under  his  eyes  in- 
clined to  pouchiness.  His  nose  was  thin,  high,  and 
expressive. 

There  was  an  air  of  weariness  about  his  every 
movement,  and  a  weary  expression  in  his  eyes;  in- 
deed the  most  striking  thing  about  him  was  the 
impression  he  conveyed  of  finding  everything  he 
did,  or  saw,  or  heard  inexpressibly  stupid  and  profit- 
less, and  of  being  always  on  the  point  of  protesting 
against  being  dragged  from  his  leisure  to  attend  to 
things  of  such  little  importance. 

Dathi  sat  under  the  shade  of  a  canopy  sipping 
mead  and  talking  with  his  captains.  When  his  cor- 
tege arrived  at  the  tent  the  count  got  down  from  his 
litter  and  advanced  languidly  into  the  High  King's 


THE  SWORD  OF  THE  SKIES  209 

presence.  Stopping  at  a  little  distance,  he  nodded 
his  head  in  somewhat  negligent  salutation;  Dathi 
raised  his  knee  slightly,  and  the  captains,  taking 
their  cue  from  him,  did  the  same. 

Dathi  had  made  it  a  condition  that  the  count 
should-  bring  a  contribution  of  food  and  forage  for 
the  army.  When  the  greetings  were  made,  he  sig- 
nalled, and  one  of  the  mutes  brought  forward  several 
bales  and  deposited  them  at  Dathi's  feet. 

"  Give  me  a  collar,  some  one,"  said  the  King  in  a 
low  voice. 

Conal  unfastened  the  broad,  golden  crescent  from 
his  throat  and  thrust  it  into  Dathi's  hand,  and  the 
King,  with  a  smile,  extended  it  to  the  mute.  He 
took  it  after  some  hesitation  and  handed  it  on  to 
the  Roman,  who  stood  holding  it  between  his  fingers 
and  looking  as  if  he  did  not  altogether  understand 
or  relish  the  gift.  To  the  Gaels,  though,  the  inter- 
change had  a  definite  and  simple  meaning;  the 
Roman  had  offered  tribute  of  provender  and  had  ac- 
cepted a  gift  of  gold,  in  effect  had  done  homage  to 
Dathi,  confirming  their  opinion  of  the  High  King's 
greatness  and  their  contempt  for  the  Romans. 

Still  holding  the  collar,  the  Roman  began  to 
speak.  He  ignored  with  deliberate  blindness  the 
hundred  of  Gaulish  captives  who  were  busy  about 
him  at  the  menial  work  of  the  camp,  and  the  Gaulish 
fabrics  and  finery,  obviously  plundered,  that  be- 
decked every  man  before  him,  and  welcomed  the 
Scots  to  the  province  with  smooth  periods  of  high- 
flown  flattery.  He  gave  Dathi  the  title  of  "Friend 


210         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

of  the  Romans,"  insinuated  that  it  was  only  by 
courtesy  that  they  had  been  permitted  to  advance 
so  far,  and,  speaking  as  if  he  took  it  for  granted 
that  they  were  now  on  the  point  of  returning,  as- 
sured the  King  that  sustenance  and  protection  would 
be  furnished  them  on  their  way  back  to  the  coast. 
Dathi  listened  with  grave  attention,  sipping  his 
mead  and  looking  quietly  over  the  rim  of  his  cup. 
When  the  Roman  had  done,  he  answered  him  hi 
the  same  tone,  thanked  him  for  his  visit  and  assured 
him  that  they  would  remain  for  a  time  enjoying 
the  Gaulish  hospitality.  Then  a  cup  of  mead  was 
handed  to  the  Roman,  who  tasted  it  with  a  wry 
face;  the  King  drained  his  cup  and  turned  away, 
so  that  the  count  could  not  but  see  that  the  audience 
was  over,  and  took  himself  away  in  his  litter.  When 
the  captives  saw  him  departing  they  raised  a  long 
and  pitiful  wail,  for  they  had  counted  on  his  success- 
ful intercession,  but  he  looked  neither  to  right  nor 
left,  and  they  soon  saw  that  they  had  nothing  to 
hope  for  from  him. 

The  Scots  rested  in  their  camp  for  a  week.  Every 
day  the  Roman  came  with  fresh  reasons  why  the 
unwelcome  guest  should  go;  every  day  Dathi  set 
them  aside  plausibly.  Their  meetings  were  most 
friendly  and  they  outdid  one  another  in  professions 
of  good-will,  but  if  either  was  deceived  it  was  not 
the  King.  All  the  time  he  was  gathering  grain  and 
other  supplies,  and  when  his  men  were  rested,  he 
announced  suddenly  that  he  purposed  to  visit  the 
King  of  the  Romans  in  his  own  city.  Next  day  he 


THE  SWORD  OF  THE  SKIES  211 

set  out,  crossed  another  river,  and  rapidly  traversed 
the  flat  lands  that  lay  between  them  and  the  op- 
posite mountains. 

The  path  of  their  ascent  lay  through  long  valleys, 
opening  into  one  another  or  separated  by  narrow 
ridges.  -  Most  of  the  time  the  peaks,  though  so  near, 
were  hidden  by  the  steep  walls,  and  only  the  thin- 
ning vegetation  showed  their  steady  progress  up- 
ward. 

After  two  days  of  climbing  the  valleys  became 
defiles,  and  at  every  step  the  ascent  grew  perceptibly 
more  difficult.  Louder  and  more  frequently  came 
the  thunder  and  boom  as  the  mountains  let  fall  their 
white  covering  under  the  heat  of  the  sun,  like  men 
putting  off  their  cloaks  on  a  summer  day. 

At  length  Dathi  saw  that  the  women  and  the 
wagons  were  delaying  his  advance,  and  that  it  would 
soon  be  impossible  to  continue  the  march  so  ham- 
pered. So  he  turned  aside  into  one  of  the  valleys 
and,  stopping  for  four  days,  set  up  the  tents  and 
made  a  wall  of  stones  about  them  and  a  ring  with 
the  wagons  around  all.  He  left  the  women  there 
and  a  fighting  force,  enough  to  man  the  place,  to- 
gether with  all  the  baggage  and  treasure  and  most 
of  the  store  of  food.  It  would  be  hard  to  say 
whether  Nessa  and  her  ladies  or  the  champions  who 
were  left  behind  liked  the  arrangement  least,  but 
Dathi  cared  nothing  at  all  for  their  likings  and  went 
his  determined  way. 

The  pass  grew  steeper  and  steeper,  and  the  pro- 
longed strain  of  the  climb  made  even  their  arms  an 


212          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

almost  intolerable  burden.  Breathing  became  diffi- 
cult; even  when  they  were  at  rest  their  breath  came 
in  labored  gasps.  A  raw  chill  was  in  the  air  at  all 
times,  and  at  night  the  wind  cut  like  a  blade. 

Once  they  passed  along  the  foot  of  a  great  wall  of 
ice  of  a  strange,  unwholesome  yellow  color,  that 
towered  above  them  higher  than  any  dun.  It  was 
seamed  with  cracks  through  which  ten  men  might 
have  marched  abreast,  and  honeycombed  with  ice 
caves  that  would  have  housed  the  army.  A  wide 
stream  issued  from  beneath  it,  and  the  ground  at 
its  base  was  so  bestrewn  with  jumbled  bowlders 
tha .  they  had  great  difficulty  in  making  their  way 
past. 

Another  tune  as  they  were  passing  through  a 
dark,  narrow  cleft,  with  precipitous  sides  of  great 
height,  they  were  arrested  by  a  terrible  noise  like 
the  crash  of  a  cataract  multiplied  a  thousand  tunes, 
and  while  they  stood  fast  in  their  terror,  an  immense 
mass  of  snow  rushed  down  on  them  from  above 
and  buried  a  score  of  the  rear-guard  under  a  vast 
tumulus. 

Such  things  as  these,  and  the  weird  desolation  of 
the  country,  gave  rise  to  superstitious  dread  in  their 
breasts.  There  were  those  among  them  who  as- 
serted that  Dathi  was  leading  them  into  the  country 
of  the  Bocanochs.  Strange  things  occurred  at  night. 
More  than  once  the  alarm  was  given,  and  the  whole 
army  stood  to  their  arms  until  dawn.  No  sign  of 
any  enemy  was  ever  found,  but  the  sentries  would 
tell  of  forms  creeping  up  on  them  in  the  dark. 


THE   SWORD  OF  THE  SKIES  213 

Dathi  laughed  at  their  terrors  and  blamed  the 
trembling  sentries  for  being  frightened  by  wolves 
or  the  prong-horned  deer  of  the  mountains.  He  was 
in  the  best  of  spirits  at  all  times,  and  his  example 
served  to  dispel  fear  and  to  arm  most  of  his  follow- 
ers to  scorn  cold  and  toil,  fear  of  accident,  and  dread 
of  witchcraft. 

The  worst  feature  of  the  journey  was  the  soli- 
tude of  the  hills.  The  passes  were  not  to  be  long 
open  and  they  met  no  travellers,  but  toiled  on, 
hour  after  hour,  through  icy,  barren  wastes,  void  of 
habitation  and  of  any  living  creature. 

Their  food,  too,  became  nearly  exhausted,  for  they 
could  only  carry  a  small  weight,  and  it  was  with 
great  relief  that  at  length  one  day  they  heard  the 
lowing  of  cattle  and  the  high-pitched  call  of  the 
herdsman.  In  another  hour  their  rough  road  led 
them  into  a  broad  valley  where  houses  ranged  them- 
selves along  the  banks  of  a  brisk  stream  and  simple, 
curious  folk  came  running  to  meet  them  with  offer- 
ings of  food. 

The  very  sight  of  the  sequestered  village  gave  the 
tired  warriors  relief  and  pleasure.  As  soon  as  they 
saw  the  low  roofs  they  dropped  panting  on  the  moss, 
content  to  rest  there  for  a  time,  when  once  they 
knew  that  shelter  and  food  were  within  reach. 
The  villagers  hurried  back  and  forth  from  their 
houses,  bringing  what  simple  viands  they  had, 
bread  and  cheese,  eggs,  and  dried  goat's  flesh. 

After  the  Scots  had  refreshed  themselves  they 
entered  the  town  and  took  possession  of  the  bams 


214         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

and  sheds,  while  the  captains  quartered  themselves 
in  the  houses,  which  were  thrown  open  to  them 
with  eager  pleasure.  Dathi  accepted  the  shelter  of 
the  headman's  house,  and  he  was  being  led  to  it 
when  he  noticed  a  squat,  stone  tower,  that  stood 
on  the  slope  of  the  mountainside  at  a  short  distance 
from  the  village. 

"You  have  a  stronghold  here  for  refuge  against 
attacks,"  he  ventured,  looking  it  over  critically,  for 
he  prided  himself  on  his  knowledge  of  everything 
pertaining  to  the  art  of  war.  "It  is  stoutly  built, 
but  oversmall  to  hold  all  of  your  people,  besides 
having  no  enclosures  for  cattle,  and  without  water 
it  is  useless  except  in  case  of  a  flying  raid." 

The  guide  interpreted  for  him  and  repeated  the 
peasant's  answer. 

"He  says  that  it  is  the  cell  of  a  holy  man,  who  has 
lived,  shut  inside  it,  for  years,  never  seeing  the  light 
of  day." 

The  High  King  laughed  cunningly. 

"Why  should  he  try  to  deceive  me?  Doubtless 
that  is  where  they  keep  their  treasures,  and  it  is  a 
safe  storehouse.  Fire  will  not  harm  it  or  the  batter- 
ing of  axes." 

"He  is  a  very  holy  man,"  the  guide  continued. 
"No  man  living  remembers  when  he  first  shut  him- 
self up  there.  Every  day  the  people  give  him  water 
and  herbs  through  a  little  hole,  for  there  is  no  door 
to  it.  He  prays  for  them  and  keeps  harm  from  the 
village." 

The  High  King  walked  around  the  tower,  peering 


THE  SWORD  OF  THE  SKIES  215 

up  at  it  in  curiosity  while  the  villagers  looked  on 
with  artless  pride,  feeling  that  their  hermit  must 
raise  them  in  the  stranger's  estimation. 

"It  has  no  door,  that  I  can  see,"  agreed  Dathi, 
"but  for  the  rest  of  the  tale,  let  those  believe  mar- 
vels who  may!  Never  yet  have  I  known  druid 
whose  diarms  and  spells  could  win  him  a  life  a  year 
longer  than  any  other  man's,  nor  is  the  life  of  a 
toad  in  a  rock  a  whit  more  tempting  to  a  druid 
than  to  any  one  else.  Why  should  a  man  wall  him- 
self up  in  a  dungeon?" 

"It  is  his  sanctity,  mighty  Scot,  that  gives  him 
his  long  life,  and  to  live  secluded  from  the  world  is 
the  surest  way  to  attain  holiness." 

"I  do  not  understand  you  fully,"  said  the  King, 
"but  if  it  be  true  I  will  see  him,  and  if  not  I  will 
teach  you  not  to  attempt  to  dupe  me.  I  am  curious 
to  see  what  kind  of  a  man  it  is  who  finds  a  mole's 
lot  so  attractive.  Here,  some  of  you,  pluck  me  out 
a  few  stones  from  this  wall. " 

"Touch  it  not,  great  King!"  cried  the  guide  in 
dismay.  "No  one  can  tell  what  will  follow  such  a 
sacrilege." 

He  called  to  the  villagers,  and  they  came  running 
in  consternation  and  threw  themselves  at  the  High 
King's  feet,  pulling  at  his  cloak  and  begging  him 
to  forbear,  but  Dathi  walked  over  them,  smiling, 
and  the  guards  dragged  them  away  by  the  legs  and 
struck  them  with  the  butts  of  their  spears.  Others, 
amused  at  the  diversion,  brought  staves  and  began 
to  prize  away  the  stones  about  the  little  hole  which 


216         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

was  the  only  opening  in  the  blank  walls  of  the 
tower. 

The  villagers  gathered  at  a  few  paces  and  kept  up 
such  a  screaming  and  wailing  that  Conal  grew  un- 
comfortable at  the  sight  of  their  distress. 

"Now,  why  should  Dathi  do  this?"  he  thought. 
"These  are  good-natured,  friendly  folk,  who  met  us 
with  open  hands  and  a  thousand  welcomes.  At 
home  there  would  be  black  shame  on  a  man  who 
treated  his  host  in  such  fashion,  and  I  cannot  see 
that  it  is  any  more  warrantable  in  Gaul.  Dathi  is 
well  disposed  to  me  and  if  I  speak  to  him,  perhaps 
he  %/ill  think  better  of  it." 

He  put  himself  in  the  King's  way  and  spoke  with- 
out hesitation: 

"Look  you,  Dathi  Quick  with  Arms,  we  are  vex- 
ing these  good  people  to  no  purpose.  What  can  it 
matter  what  their  senseless  secrets  are  ?  They  have 
offered  us  hospitality,  and,  to  my  mind,  it  is  not 
seemly  to  treat  them  with  derision." 

The  High  King  turned  on  him  angrily: 

"The  curse  of  Bel  devour  you  and  your  courtesy !" 
he  bellowed.  "What  right  have  you  to  come  be- 
tween me  and  my  sport  ?  Is  the  squawking  of  these 
wretches  more  to  you  than  your  King's  will?  Do 
you  think  that  because  I  have  favored  you,  you  can 
twist  me  like  a  hay-rope?  Out  of  my  way !" 

It  was  plain  that  he  would  bear  no  interference 
in  his  whim,  and  Conal,  offended  at  his  furious 
tongue,  drew  back  and  said  no  more. 

The  stones  fell  one  by  one,  and  the  orifice  widened 


THE  SWORD  OF  THE  SKIES  217 

until  it  was  large  enough  to  admit  a  man's  head  and 
shoulders.  One  of  the  warriors  put  down  his  stake 
and  thrust  his  head  inside. 

"He  is  there!  I  can  see  him  plainly!"  he  cried 
triumphantly. 

"Drag  him  out,  that  I  may  see  him,"  ordered  the 
King. 

The  soldier  stepped  back,  and  indeed  they  could 
see  into  the  dim  interior  clearly  enough  to  perceive 
the  very  small,  bent-over  figure  of  a  man  within; 
his  back  was  turned  to  them,  and  he  knelt  motion- 
less by  a  stone  table,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands. 

The  Scots  went  to  their  stakes  again  with  a  will, 
and  in  a  moment  the  hole  was  large  enough  for  a 
man  to  enter. 

Conal,  standing  by  sulkily,  felt  a  change  in  the 
air.  His  cloak  flapped  on  his  thigh,  stirred  by  a 
cold  draft  that  seemed  to  blow  upward  from  the 
very  ground.  At  the  same  time  the  sunlight  faded 
suddenly  and,  looking  up,  he  saw  the  whole  circle 
of  the  sky  filmed  over  with  haze.  The  haze  grew 
darker  and  thickened  to  a  dense  curtain  of  curdled 
black  clouds  which  moved  over  and  over  with  a 
rolling  motion,  until  only  a  single  circular  spot  of 
sky,  directly  above  them,  was  left  unobscured,  and 
that  spot  grew  less  and  less  until  a  patch  of  only  a 
hand's  breadth  remained.  Then  one  of  the  war- 
riors put  his  foot  within  the  opening.  The  little 
figure  within  rose,  turned,  and  stretched  forth  his 
hand  toward  the  King.  Instantly  the  opening  be- 
tween the  clouds  blazed  with  such  intensity  of  white 


218          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

fire,  and  the  heavens  were  split  with  a  crash  of 
thunder  so  appalling,  that  as  one  man  they  fell 
prone,  with  their  arms  thrown  over  their  heads, 
grovelling  on  the  earth  in  the  torment  of  seared 
eyeballs  and  deafened  ears. 

How  long  that  awful  torture  lasted,  how  long  they 
lay  there  while  that  fierce  light  burned  through 
their  lids  and  that  terrible  reverberation  beat  upon 
their  skulls,  no  man  of  them  knew.  But  when  the 
first  of  them  dared  raise  his  dazzled,  bloodshot  eyes 
and  peer  round  him  under  his  hand,  the  sky  was 
clear  and  bright  and  the  sun  was  floating  over  the 
peaks  with  no  least  wisp  of  cloud  to  mar  its  bril- 
liancy. The  village  was  empty;  peasants  and  hermit 
had  vanished. 

About  him,  his  fellows,  groaning  and  blinking,  were 
getting  to  their  feet.  One  figure  only  lay  still  and 
did  not  stir.  Clothed  in  fluttering  rags,  that  had 
been  costly  linen,  decked  with  a  few  shapeless  lumps 
of  fused  metal,  all  that  remained  of  the  wealth  of 
golden  trinkets  he  had  prized,  charred,  blackened, 
unrecognizable,  no  longer  human,  the  corpse  of  the 
High  King  affronted  the  sun. 


CHAPTER  XX 
HEADED  BY  THE  LEGIONS 

Few  among  the  army  thought  of  anything  but  of 
getting  away  from  the  ill-omened  spot  as  quickly  as 
they  could,  but  to  some  it  seemed  impossible  to 
abandon  the  King's  body  to  the  earth  with  such 
hasty  rites  as  they  could  then  grant  him,  so  they 
wrapped  the  corpse  in  linen  and  bore  it  on  their 
shoulders  down  the  mountain.  They  retraced  their 
way  through  the  valleys  in  terrified  haste.  By  day 
they  stumbled  down  the  trail,  changing  their  dismal 
burden  from  hand  to  hand,  not  stopping  even  for 
food  between  dawn  and  dark;  at  night  they  clustered 
around  immense  fires  and  shivered  with  fear.  Their 
organization,  never  very  rigid,  was  wiped  out  with 
the  King,  but  there  was  no  straggling,  for  their  com- 
mon terror  kept  them  together. 

When  they  came  to  the  valley  where  they  had  left 
the  Queen  and  the  wagons,  they  halted  for  a  day 
while  the  women  keened  over  the  King,  and  the 
men  dipped  the  body  in  tar  and,  after  wrapping  it 
in  strips  of  tarred  linen,  sewed  it  in  a  pall.  Then 
they  placed  it  upright  in  the  chariot  he  had  used 
when  alive,  and  appointed  a  man  to  ride  beside  it 
and  steady  it,  and  another  to  lead  the  horses. 

219 


220         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

When  all  was  done  they  took  up  their  march 
again,  went  on  down  through  the  passes,  and  on  the 
morning  of  the  second  day  found  themselves  on  the 
hills  overlooking  the  Po. 

At  the  first  dawn,  before  the  mist  had  risen  from 
the  river,  they  began  the  descent  into  the  valley,  but 
before  the  last  companies  had  left  the  fires  men  of 
the  advance  body  came  dashing  back  with  ominous 
news. 

"Fighting  men  are  before  us  holding  the  ford !" 

The  Scots  halted  while  Brian  and  some  of  the 
battle  leaders  advanced  under  cover  of  the  mist. 
They  found  the  ford  strongly  guarded,  and  it  was 
easy  to  guess  that  this  force  was  only  a  detachment 
of  a  stronger  one  posted  on  the  opposite  bank. 

It  was  evident  that  they  could  not  pass  without  a 
struggle,  and  they  were  so  shaken  and  dispirited  that 
this  certainty  of  battle  which  would  have  been  a  de- 
light to  them  a  week  before,  now  filled  them  with 
uneasy  foreboding.  However,  the  thing  was  there 
to  be  faced  and,  as  necessity  required  that  the  army 
should  have  a  head,  the  common  voice  called  upon 
Brian  to  take  the  chief  command.  The  veteran 
agreed  without  many  words,  and  at  once  appointed 
his  lieutenants  and  assigned  the  divisions  their 
places. 

The  spearmen,  the  chief  strength  of  the  army,  he 
divided  into  three  brigades,  and  to  command  them 
appointed  Murrough,  Diarmuid,  and  Tuathal,  three 
officers  of  Dathi's  household,  men  of  training  in 
arms,  and  veterans  of  the  old  wars,  and  he  attached 


HEADED  BY  THE  LEGIONS  221 

to  each  of  these  bodies  a  sufficient  number  of  bow- 
men and  slingers,  to  act  as  skirmishers  for  them  and 
support  the  charge  with  their  missiles.  He  assigned 
a  few  more  of  the  light  troops  to  take  the  women 
back  out  of  danger  from  chance  arrows,  and  formed 
the  rest  into  a  fourth  division  for  a  reserve.  There 
remained  a  fifth  body,  Conal's  chariot-men,  all  too 
few,  but  invaluable  if,  as  seemed  little  likely,  they 
could  be  used  against  the  enemy  at  all.  Next  he 
drew  up  the  army  in  line  and  ordered  the  Sunburst 
to  be  displayed  before  the  chariot  which  bore  the 
High  King's  body,  that  the  warriors  might  draw 
courage  from  the  sight  of  it. 

By  this  tune  the  mist  over  the  river  had  begun  to 
thin,  and  they  could  see  the  enemy  through  openings 
where  the  wind  at  tunes  parted  it. 

The  main  body  was  ranged  along  the  farther  bank, 
extending  up  and  down  stream.  Behind  the  first 
line  a  powerful  reserve  force  was  massed  in  a  square 
formation  on  a  slight  rise  of  ground.  To  their 
rear  the  camp  could  be  seen,  four-square,  regularly 
pitched,  with  straight  streets  of  tents,  earthworks, 
and  ditches  complete. 

In  the  midst  of  the  reserves  was  a  little  group  of 
horsemen,  the  staff  with  their  shining  cuirasses  and 
gilt  helmets,  and  the  towering  plume  of  the  general 
rising  above  all.  Two  eagles  were  in  sight,  showing 
that  the  force  was  made  up  of  detachments  from  more 
than  one  legion,  and  beside  the  regulars  there  were 
several  hundred  Dalmatian  infantry,  armed  with 
bows,  posted  on  the  right,  and  a  large  force  of  Gauls 


222 

on  the  left.  These  latter  were  negligible;  the  heavy 
crooked  weapons  of  the  Dalmatians  with  their 
stubby  arrows  and  short  range  were  not  formidable 
compared  to  the  long  bows  and  steel-pointed  shafts 
of  the  Scots,  and  though  the  Gauls  were  armed  after 
a  fashion  it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  they  would 
count  for  much,  or  even  fight  at  all  unless  driven 
forward  with  blows. 

"See  how  they  stand  together,"  said  Brian,  point- 
ing to  the  rigid  square.  "This  is  a  trade  to  them, 
nothing  more,  and  if  we  would  win  our  way  through 
them,  it  behooves  us  to  put  aside  for  this  once  all 
thought  of  personal  distinction.  Let  every  man 
stay  in  line  and  keep  the  hedge  of  battle  unbroken, 
and  let  there  be  no  challenges  to  single  combat  (for 
they  will  be  only  a  waste  of  time),  but  when  I  give 
the  word  come  on  together  and  strike  them  with 
our  full  weight  at  once." 

He  gave  the  signal  then  for  Murrough  and  Tua- 
thal  to  move  forward  with  their  men  and,  putting 
himself  at  their  head,  advanced  against  the  ford. 

The  Romans,  waiting  on  their  arms,  knew  from 
then-  scouts  that  the  Gaels  were  close  at  hand,  but 
the  mist  was  so  thick  about  them  that  they  could 
not  watch  the  dispositions  being  made  on  the  hill- 
top. Suddenly  arrows  and  stones  began  to  drop 
among  them  as  if  from  the  clouds,  and  a  moment 
later  the  loose  ranks  of  the  Scots  came  streaming 
down  the  hill  through  the  ribbons  of  mist,  bright 
with  the  sparkle  and  glitter  of  gold  and  bronze,  gay 
with  the  brilliant  colors  of  their  cloaks  and  the  varied 


HEADED  BY  THE  LEGIONS  223 

blazonry  of  their  shields  of  red  and  white.  Over 
their  heads  the  long  spear-shafts  stood  up  stiffly, 
green,  red,  and  yellow,  like  a  thick  growth  of 
giant,  parti-colored  rushes.  The  great  battle-hounds 
lurched  in  their  leashes  among  the  ranks,  and  their 
loud  and  terrifying  grumble  came  distinctly  to  the 
Romans'  ears. 

The  legionaries  stood  hi  rigid  line.  From  time  to 
time  one  of  them  would  toss  up  his  hands  and  topple 
backward,  or  slide  quietly  to  the  ground  with  an 
arrow  through  his  throat.  When  this  happened  a 
soldier  from  the  rear  rank  stepped  mechanically  into 
the  vacant  place,  and  the  wounded  man  was  passed 
back  to  the  rear.  There  was  perfect  silence  among 
them  so  that  the  even-toned  orders  of  the  officers 
could  be  heard  clearly  from  one  end  of  the  line  to 
the  other. 

The  Scots  came  on,  clashing  their  arms.  When 
they  were  almost  within  spear-throw,  one  of  the  offi- 
cers on  the  farther  bank  shouted  an  order,  and  at 
once  the  advance  post  shouldered  their  pikes,  wheeled, 
and  retired  through  the  ford.  The  Scots  raised  a 
shout  of  triumph  and,  coming  up  file  by  file,  hurled 
their  spears  and  dashed  gallantly  into  the  water. 

The  bank  rose  steeply  from  the  river,  and  the 
Romans  had  all  the  advantage  that  position  could 
give  them.  None  the  less,  when  the  first  rush  of  the 
charge  carried  the  Scots  well  up  to  the  top  of  the 
bank,  when  the  axes  were  beating  on  the  Roman 
shields,  and  the  snarling  hounds  came  plunging  in 
between  the  pikes,  it  seemed  that  the  impetus  of 


224         THE  PORTION  OF.  A  CHAMPION 

the  attack  must  break  the  Roman  line.  It  did  bend 
and  sway  back,  enough  to  allow  a  handful  of  the 
Scots  to  gain  a  foothold  on  the  level  ground,  but 
the  Roman  commander  flung  his  reserves  to  the 
threatened  spot,  and  the  line  straightened  again 
like  a  bowstring  snapping  home,  sweeping  the  Scots 
back  into  the  river.  A  number  of  kilted  corpses  lay 
face  down  in  the  shallow  water  or  floated  quietly 
down  the  stream. 

For  a  moment  the  two  lines  stood  back  measuring 
one  another,  while  the  arrows  drifted  back  and  forth 
over  their  heads.  Then  the  Scots  cast  a  second  vol- 
ley of  spears  and  came  on  again.  Slipping  and  slid- 
ing on  the  bloodstained  moss,  pulling  themselves  up 
by  the  bushes,  they  were  cut  down  in  scores,  and  yet 
here  and  there  they  found  foothold  for  a  time,  sheared 
off  the  heads  of  the  pikes  with  their  sharp  axes,  and 
met  sword  with  sword.  But  such  advantages  were 
only  temporary;  at  once  the  plumed  general  on  the 
hillock  waved  forward  a  fresh  squad  of  reserves,  and 
a  vigorous  counter-stroke  pushed  the  Scots  over  the 
verge  again.  At  the  third  or  fourth  repulse  they 
withdrew  reluctantly  to  their  own  bank  for  a  breath- 
ing-spell. 

Brian's  face  was  grim  as  he  stood  waiting  the 
moment  for  renewing  the  attack.  He  exchanged  a 
quiet  word  with  his  lieutenants  and  called  on  Diar- 
muid  to  bring  his  men  into  line,  so  that  every  avail- 
able warrior  except  the  chariot-men  and  the  archers 
could  be  used  in  the  second  attempt. 

It  had  been  hard  for  Conal  to  remain  inactive 


HEADED  BY  THE  LEGIONS  225 

while  the  battle  was  being  fought  out  under  his  eyes, 
and  the  noise  and  dust  of  the  fight  drifted  up  to 
him.  As  soon  as  he  had  the  chance  he  came  up  to 
Brian. 

"Had  we  not  better  get  down  and  help?  There 
are  too  many  good  spears  in  my  party  to  be  wasted." 

"The  day  is  not  done  yet,"  answered  Brian.  "So 
few  men  will  not  win  the  day  for  us  now,  and  we 
will  need  you  if  once  we  make  good  our  footing  on 
the  other  side.  But  keep  a  sharp  watch,  and  the 
moment  we  gain  the  level,  come  over  to  our  help. 
If  there  were  another  ford — but  I  looked  about  for 
one  when  we  came  this  way  before  and  I  know  that 
the  river  runs  deep  both  above  and  below." 

At  that  he  gave  the  signal,  again  the  Scottish 
charge  strained  the  Roman  line  to  breaking,  again 
the  Roman  leader,  waiting  expertly  for  the  critical 
moment,  put  in  his  supports  precisely  where  they 
were  needed  and  shook  off  the  Scots  so  vigorously 
that  they  recoiled  across  the  stream. 

"We  must  break  them  or  perish,"  cried  Brian  in 
desperate  excitement,  and  he  massed  his  men  again 
in  closer  formation.  "A  strong  flight  from  the  bows 
and  slings !  Shoot  fast,  and  aim  carefully !" 

Immediately  the  bowstrings  began  twanging 
sharply  as  he  waved  to  his  warriors,  and  they 
plunged  into  the  shallow  water,  hurling  themselves 
against  the  Roman  position  more  gallantly  than 
ever.  Now  every  Scottish  footman  was  in  the  melee, 
the  last  of  the  Roman  reserves  had  been  used  to  fill 
the  gaps  in  the  fighting  line,  and  even  the  plumed 


226         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

general  had  dismounted  and  taken  his  place  among 
his  men.  The  Scots  came  up  the  bank  with  in- 
domitable daring  until  they  grappled  with  the  legion- 
aries breast  to  breast.  The  air  was  white  with  the 
powdered  lime  flying  from  their  shields;  the  ford 
ran  red  with  blood  and  yellow  with  stirred-up  slime. 
Their  more  than  heroic  persistence  might  well  have 
carried  the  field  against  any  than  those  they  faced, 
but  the  steady  discipline  of  the  Romans  was  proof 
against  even  their  impetuous  attack,  and  the  re- 
peated assaults  were  broken  and  shattered  without 
effect.  They  hung  on,  suffering  much  but  accom- 
plishing nothing. 

Conal  was  driving  his  chariot  to  and  fro,  working 
himself  into  a  fever  as  he  watched  the  fortunes  of  the 
battle  going  against  his  countrymen.  He  could  see 
that  there  was  no  chance  of  winning  the  ford  by 
direct  attack,  and  as  he  thought  how  formidable  his 
stout  troop  would  be  if  only  they  could  be  brought 
into  action,  it  began  to  seem  more  and  more  neces- 
sary that  some  way  should  be  found  of  gaining  the 
opposite  shore.  As  this  idea  persisted,  he  began  to 
move  along  the  stream  examining  the  banks,  and  at 
no  great  distance  found  one  place  on  his  own  side 
and  another  on  the  farther  shore  where  the  slope 
was  not  too  steep  to  be  practicable  for  the  chariots. 

At  this  point,  though  the  river  was  wide,  the  cur- 
rent was  sluggish,  and  a  willow-grown  bar  hid  them 
from  the  Roman  lines.  Fearing  only  that  they 
would  be  too  late,  he  got  down  from  the  chariot, 
took  the  horses  by  the  halters,  and  led  them  into  the 


HEADED  BY  THE  LEGIONS  227 

water.  A  few  yards  from  the  bank  and  the  stream 
ran  deep,  but  the  horses  swam  confidently  and  he 
swam  with  them,  keeping  their  heads  pointed  to  the 
chosen  landing-place.  The  others  followed,  one  by 
one,  and  although  many  of  the  heavy  chariots  sank 
in  midstream,  dragging  the  struggling  horses  with 
them,,  the  survivors  came  to  shallow  water  at  last, 
and  stumbling  up  the  bank,  were  safe  on  level  ground, 
full  in  the  rear  of  the  Romans,  and  not  half  a  mile 
from  the  line  of  battle. 

The  charioteers  took  their  places,  crouching  down 
behind  the  wicker  sides,  the  warriors  sprang  in  after 
them  with  their  arms  full  of  spears,  and  the  long 
line  of  chariots  moved  carefully  forward  under  cover 
of  uneven  ground  until  the  clash  of  weapons  sounded 
not  two  hundred  yards  away.  Here  Conal  halted 
them;  he  loosened  his  sword  in  its  scabbard,  tested 
the  thong  of  his  target,  and  saw  that  his  spears  hung 
free  in  their  loops.  All  around  him  his  followers 
were  ready. 

"Now!"  he  said  softly. 

The  charioteers  raised  their  horse  rods  and  the 
horses  moved  forward,  slowly  at  first,  but  gaining 
impetus  with  every  bound.  The  chariots  swayed 
and  bounced,  but  the  drivers  kept  rank  with  con- 
summate skill,  though  they  were  advancing  like  a 
whirlwind  and  the  hubs  were  almost  touching,  and 
sweeping  over  a  swell  they  bore  down  on  the  Roman 
flank. 

The  Gauls  saw  them  coming  and  realized  that 
the  brunt  of  this  unusual  attack  was  theirs  to  bear, 


228         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

and  when  they  had  watched  for  a  moment  the  ap- 
proach of  the  terrible  onslaught  that  would  soon  be 
upon  them,  they  began  to  give  ground  in  confusion. 
Their  Roman  commanders  cursed  them  and,  strik- 
ing them  with  their  truncheons,  strove  hard  to  form 
them  in  squares,  but  the  temper  of  the  Gauls  could 
not  endure  the  thought  of  standing  against  the 
threatened  shock. 

Those  horses  galloping  so  wildly,  urged  always  to 
greater  speed  by  the  keen-faced  charioteers  who  bent 
low  over  their  backs,  how  could  a  man's  strength 
oppose  their  powerful  beating  hoofs  ?  The  shouting 
warriors  who  balanced  so  easily  in  the  bounding  cars, 
were  they  not  already  drawing  up  their  arms  to 
hurl  their  spears?  They  came  so  fast  that  it  was 
useless  to  try  to  aim  at  them,  while  they  had  only 
to  throw  into  the  massed  ranks  of  the  Gauls  to  find 
a  mark.  Those  dogs,  coursing  silently  beside  the 
horses,  each  as  large  as  a  bear,  with  their  black  lips 
drawn  back  to  show  their  strong  teeth  and  the  hair 
bristling  up  on  their  wrinkled  necks,  what  horror  in 
the  thought  of  their  ferocity  !  No  use  to  cry  to  them 
for  quarter  when  their  teeth  met  through  sinew  and 
bone.  Most  of  all,  to  be  caught  and  crushed  under 
the  heavy,  iron-shod  wheels !  No  flesh  could  stand 
it.  The  Gauls  broke  and  fled  straight  into  the  flank 
of  the  legionaries,  breaking  their  ranks  and  throwing 
them  into  momentary  confusion.  In  some  places 
the  regulars  turned  their  spears  against  the  fugitives, 
in  others  they  opened  their  files  to  let  them  pass 
through,  but  the  chariot  charge  was  not  far  behind 


HEADED  BY  THE  LEGIONS  229 

the  flying  cowards,  and  its  full  momentum  struck 
the  Romans  while  they  were  still  in  disorder.  It 
struck  and  hung  for  a  moment.  Horses  reared  to 
the  sky,  pawing  and  squealing,  tilting  the  chariots 
backward  until  the  tilt-boards  dug  into  the  earth. 

Theje  were  men  in  the  Roman  ranks  who  had 
faced  unmoved  the  war-elephants  of  rebellious  Africa. 
Those  heavy  pikes  and  blunt  swords  had  been 
matched  against  every  weapon  the  world  knew  and 
had  never  failed  of  victory.  But  against  the  crash 
of  the  charging  chariots  no  foot-soldier,  caught  un- 
prepared, could  have  held  his  ground  for  an  instant. 
The  plunging  horses  toppled  them  over  like  logs  set 
on  end  and  the  heavy  wheels  went  over  them.  No 
armor  could  withstand  the  long  spears  hurled  at  such 
close  range.  They  pierced  shield  and  corselet, 
crushed  bone  and  tore  flesh. 

When  Brian  first  heard  the  rumble  of  wheels  he 
lost  no  time  in  wondering  how  Conal  had  come  to 
the  rescue,  but  cried  on  his  men  and  renewed  the 
attack  so  bitterly  that  their  former  efforts  seemed 
hardly  more  than  play.  This  time  there  were  no 
reserves  to  strengthen  the  forespent  defense,  and 
some  who  had  before  been  holding  the  bank  were 
faced  about,  fighting  hopelessly  to  keep  their  feet 
against  the  chariots.  The  Roman  officers,  still  cold 
and  confident,  kept  repeating  "  Close  ranks !  Close 
ranks!"  and  they  held  their  ground  without  once 
looking  over  their  shoulders  to  see  if  death  were  at 
their  heels. 

Brian  was  determined  that  the  uncertainty  should 


230         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

end,  and  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  general's 
plume  and  worked  his  way  toward  him,  step  by 
step.  When  only  a  man  or  two  stood  between  them, 
he  dropped  his  shield,  took  his  axe  in  both  hands 
and,  reaching  over  the  intervening  heads,  dealt  a 
staggering  blow  on  the  glittering  helmet.  A  dozen 
spears  met  in  Brian's  body,  but  the  Roman  fell, 
split  to  the  chin.  One  rush  more  and  the  line  was 
broken.  The  legionaries,  back  to  back,  fought  gal- 
lantly but  uselessly  to  the  end.  The  chariots  swept 
back  and  forth  among  them,  the  spearmen  trans- 
fixed them  where  they  stood,  and  the  dogs,  hurling 
themselves  two  and  three  at  a  time  on  their  throats, 
worried  them  like  rats.  In  an  hour  the  last  Roman 
lay  dead  on  the  field. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THE  HOSTAGE 

The  Scots,  though  victorious,  were  scarcely  more 
fortunate  than  then*  enemies.  Of  all  the  officers  of 
Dathi's  household,  hardly  one  was  living,  and  too 
many  of  the  lower  ranks  had  found  death.  The  sur- 
vivors, wounded  almost  to  a  man,  without  food  since 
early  morning,  broken  by  a  day  of  almost  incredible 
effort,  sank  on  the  turf  when  the  last  Roman  had 
fallen,  unable  to  express  or  even  feel  triumph  at 
their  victory.  They  slept  where  they  fell.  No  fires 
were  lighted,  no  attempt  made  to  care  for  the  dying, 
who  all  night  long  groaned  and  wailed  hideously 
around  them.  Only  Conal  thought  of  those  who  had 
fallen,  and  he  only  of  the  friend  who  had  been  his 
kind  counsellor  since  he  landed  on  Gaulish  soil,  and 
of  the  clansmen  who  had  followed  him.  When  he 
first  looked  about  him  for  his  clansmen,  eight  of  the 
fourteen  dragged  themselves  up  to  respond;  the 
others  had  met  death  among  the  spearmen.  Then 
he  asked  for  Brian,  and  one  brought  him  to  where 
the  old  warrior  lay  by  the  ford. 

Conal  knelt  at  his  side  without  speaking,  for  hot 
sobs  choked  him  at  the  sight  of  the  mangled  form. 

"Hut !  Hut ! "  muttered  the  veteran.  " Did  you 
never  before  see  a  champion  die,  that  you  must  dis- 

231 


232         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

turb  me  with  your  blubbering?  What  sort  of  a 
warrior  are  you  that  you  sicken  at  the  sight  of  a 
clean  spear  thrust?" 

"My  grief  to  see  you  perish  thus,"  Conal  groaned. 
"A  sad  raid  this  has  been  for  us,  and  a  sad  sight  to 
see  so  many  of  our  best  champions  dead  in  this 
miserable  skirmish.  I  swear  by  the  oath  which  my 
people  swear,  that  I  will  take  black  toll  from  the 
Romans  for  the  blows  they  have  dealt  you." 

"I  do  not  forbid  that,"  replied  Brian  smiling 
ghastily.  "Such  an  oath  is  knightly,  and  ven- 
geance gives  comfort  to  the  dead;  but  I  put  geasa 
on  you,  heavy  bonds  not  to  be  broken  without  dis- 
grace, that  you  guard  the  High  King's  body  faith- 
fully and  let  nothing  turn  you  aside  until  you  bring 
him  safe  to  Cruachan  of  the  Enchantments,  and  see 
him  buried  among  his  forefathers." 

"I  accept  the  geasa,  and  I  will  not  turn  aside 
until  I  see  him  buried  at  Cruachan." 

"Lift  me  up,  then,"  said  Brian  feebly,  "and  loosen 
my  cloak  from  my  shoulders.  The  blood  is  soaking 
it,  and  it  will  not  be  fit  to  wrap  me  in  when  I  am 
gone." 

'"The  Roman  camp  shall  give  its  finest  cloths  for 
your  pall,  old  warrior." 

"Loosen  it  all  the  same,  and  lift  me  up  and  give 
me  water.  Do  not  fail  to  raise  a  pillar  stone  for  me, 
and  let  every  man  cast  a  stone  on  my  cairn  so  that 
if  the  Gaels  come  this  way  again  my  name  may  be 
remembered.  Farewell,  Conal;  another  year  of  my 
training  and  you  would  have  made  a  good  warrior." 


THE  HOSTAGE  233 

His  voice  weakened  with  every  word  and  he  lay 
back  at  last  exhausted.  His  limbs  grew  cold  and  the 
spirit  receded  into  the  inmost  and  secret  chambers 
of  the  body.  Conal  held  the  grizzled  head  on  his 
breast  and  poured  wine  on  his  tongue,  drop  by  drop, 
until  a  faint  sigh  stirred  him  and  life  passed  from 
him. 

Conal  sat  for  hours  without  moving,  and  his  clans- 
men stood  by  silent  with  their  torches.  But  for 
them  the  army  slept. 

At  last  the  dawn  kindled  on  the  peaks  and  the 
morning  air  stirred  the  river  again.  The  women 
were  riding  toward  them  through  the  ford,  covering 
their  eyes  and  turning  away  their  white  faces,  for 
the  shore  was  strewn  with  men's  bodies  and  the 
wreckage  of  bodies,  whittled,  battered,  and  torn 
apart — no  sight  for  ladies'  eyes.  Etain  came  last  of 
all,  and  when  she  saw  the  little  group  at  the  water's 
edge,  she  had  them  stop  the  horses,  got  down  from 
the  litter,  and  stood  looking  mournfully  on  the  dead 
hero.  She  did  not  look  at  Conal,  nor  he  at  her,  but 
for  the  moment  all  passion  was  wiped  out  and  there 
was  truce  between  them.  The  girl  shed  tears  and 
sobbed  a  little  under  her  breath,  but  set  quietly  about 
helping  Conal  with  what  remained  to  be  done.  To- 
gether they  straightened  the  sinewy  limbs,  cut  away 
the  sodden  and  clotted  tunic,  covered  the  pierced 
body  with  the  rich  cloak,  and  walked  about  it  three 
times,  with  solemn  tread,  following  the  path  of  the 
sun.  The  clansmen  broke  their  long  silence  with  a 
wild  and  melancholy  cry,  which  was  caught  up  and 


234         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

repeated  by  the  waking  army.  The  warriors  rose 
painfully  and  came  limping  up,  one  by  one,  until 
the  whole  army  was  gathered  about  Brian's  bier. 

"Is  there  a  bard  among  you?"  asked  Conal. 

"There  is  none.  Caltha,  the  bard,  came  with  us, 
but  fell  in  the  first  charge." 

"Lend  me  a  harp,  then,"  said  Conal,  "and  I  will 
try  to  make  a  song  for  Brian,  for  such  a  champion 
should  not  go  to  his  grave  without  a  word  of 
praise." 

So  he  took  the  harp  and  sang: 

"  When  Brian  was  among  the  living, 
Bright  was  his  name  among  the  heroes. 
None  could  be  found  to  match  him 
Among  the  strong  hosts  of  the  Gael. 
Brave  was  he  who  was  called  the  chief  of  the  warriors. 
When  bards  sang,  his  name  was  not  forgotten, 
In  the  stronghold  of  Tara  or  in  shining  Cruachan. 
Alas,  in  place  of  songs  and  feasts, 
Darkness  and  silence  on  Brian  forever ! 
Alas,  in  place  of  the  struggles  of  champions, 
Stillness  and  quiet  on  Brian  forever ! 
Farewell  to  battles  and  hard  combat. 
Farewell  to  the  hero." 

Then  they  took  the  body  on  their  shoulders  and 
bore  it  a  little  way  to  where  a  rock  stood  in  the 
midst  of  the  field  and,  digging  with  their  spears, 
they  buried  him  standing,  with  his  weapons  in  his 
hand.  They  piled  stones  also  for  the  foundation  of 
a  cairn,  and  cut  his  name  above  him  in  oghams: 
"The  Stone  of  Brian,  son  of  Oscar." 


THE  HOSTAGE  235 

And  now  the  road  to  the  sea  lay  open  before  them, 
yet,  long  and  arduous  as  it  was,  they  felt  that  then- 
position  could  hardly  be  more  perilous.  They  did 
not  doubt  that  the  whole  power  that  Rome  could 
muster  was  hastening  up  by  forced  marches  to  over- 
whelm them.  Before  long  other  legions  would  bar 
the  defiles  against  them.  In  the  few  days  that  had 
passed  since  Dathi's  death  their  spirit  had  rapidly 
been  waning,  and  now,  left  again  without  a  leader, 
they  did  not  know  which  way  to  turn. 

While  the  cooking  fires  burned  and  the  warriors 
wandered  idly  about  the  Roman  camp,  the  flaiths 
and  chieftains  gathered  in  the  general's  tent  to  con- 
cert plans  for  their  future  movements.  Nessa  was 
there,  looking  helpless  and  peevish  rather  than  be- 
reaved, but  though  the  nobles  paid  her  due  respect, 
they  showed  plainly  that  they  had  no  mind  to  let 
a  woman  rule  their  counsels.  For  some  time  they 
regarded  each  other  gloomily  and  talked,  two  by 
two,  with  foreboding  shakings  of  their  heads.  At 
length  an  aire  of  Connaught  spoke,  one  of  Dathi's 
near  kinsmen  and  officers. 

"This  is  no  safe  position  we  are  in.  Let  us  con- 
sider it  soberly  as  it  demands.  It  is  a  long  march  to 
the  sea,  through  hostile  tribes,  over  rivers  and  moun- 
tains. We  must  fight  our  way  every  step,  and  who 
can  say  how  many  of  us  will  live  through  it  to  see 
Eirinn  again?" 

"That  is  true,"  came  the  low  murmur  of  reply. 
"We  will  be  few  when  we  come  at  last  to  Eirinn." 

"Not  only  that,  but  when  we  are  weakened  and 


236         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

weary  with  fighting,  the  legions  will  pin  us  in  and 
kill  us  all  like  rats  in  a  corner.  Why  should  we  throw 
our  lives  away?  We  have  beaten  the  Romans  in 
this  affair,  and  now  is  our  best  time  to  make  terms, 
while  they  think  us  formidable.  They  will  be  glad 
to  give  us  corn  and  let  us  pass  free  to  the  coast,  as 
they  offered  to  do  before.  It  is  only  a  matter  of 
submitting  ourselves  and  giving  a  few  hostages — 
and  I  will  be  one  to  go  and  treat  with  them." 

"It  is  our  best  chance,"  agreed  several  voices 
despondently.  "It  is  useless  to  spend  our  blood. 
Let  us  make  what  terms  we  can." 

The  others  looked  at  the  ground  in  silence  and 
shame  but  had  no  better  counsel  to  offer. 

Conal  had  kept  his  peace,  and  indeed  his  heart 
was  so  sore  over  Brian  that  he  had  hardly  attended 
to  the  Connaughtman's  speech.  Lately,  too,  he  had 
become  diffident  about  speaking  out  openly  among 
older  men,  and  had  learned  to  curb  his  tongue  after 
one  or  two  attempts  to  put  himself  forward  in  coun- 
cil had  been  met  with  stares  and  smiles.  So  he 
waited,  expecting  some  old  champion  to  heap  scorn 
on  the  Connaughtman  and  his  suggestion.  But 
when  he  saw  that  the  humiliating  proposal  was 
being  accepted  as  the  only  resource,  all  his  bashful- 
ness  left  him;  his  face  became  red  with  shame  and 
rage  and,  springing  to  his  feet,  he  strode  into  the 
circle  and  faced  them  all. 

"Disgrace  on  him  that  speaks  cf  yielding,"  he 
protested.  "Is  Brian's  blood  to  go  for  nothing,  and 
that  of  the  other  champions  who  lie  by  the  ford? 


THE  HOSTAGE  237 

If  it  was  in  your  mind  to  surrender,  why  not  have 
done  it  yesterday,  before  so  many  found  death?" 

"What  would  you  do,  then?"  asked  the  Con- 
naughtman  contemptuously.  "Fight  our  way  step 
by  step  from  here  to  the  sea,  over  a  road  that  it  has 
taken  us  a  month  to  pass  over  unopposed?" 

"For  what  did  you  come  to  Gaul?  I  came  to 
fight,  and  I  am  not  discouraged  by  a  single  battle 
when  the  victory  was  ours  in  that  one.  What  sort 
of  warriors  do  you  hold  yourselves  to  be  ?  Why  do 
you  carry  spears  if  not  to  use  them  ?  If  Dathi  were 
living  would  he  be  thinking  of  making  terms? 
Would  Niall,  if  he  were  here,  be  offering  them  hos- 
tages? It  was  his  way  to  take  hostages  from 
them,  and  to  me  that  seems  a  better  plan  than  the 
other." 

"This  is  mere  blustering,"  said  the  Connaught- 
man.  "Let  .us  have  done  with  fine  words.  It  is 
bad  enough  for  us  to  be  forced  to  save  ourselves  as 
best  we  can,  without  having  fools  reproach  us  for 
cowardice.  WTio  are  you  that  talk  to  your  betters 
so  boldly?" 

He  pushed  menacingly  up  to  Conal,  but  numerous 
voices  called  for  fair  play,  and  from  all  sides  came 
cries  of  "Let  us  hear  him.  Let  him  go  on." 

"And  if  we  yield,"  Conal  cried,  "will  you  trust  the 
Romans  to  keep  faith  with  us  when  once  we  have 
given  hostages?  Who  knows  what  oath  they  hold 
binding  ?  First  they  will  find  some  pretext  for  hav- 
ing us  give  up  our  arms,  and  then,  when  we  are  at 
their  mercy,  will  they  spare  us  ?  I  would  trust  that 


238         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

yellow-skinned  old  Roman  who  came  to  our  camp 
and  took  gifts  from  Dathi  no  farther  than  I  would 
trust  a  weasel." 

"That  is  true,"  said  several  warriors.  "They 
would  play  false  with  us.  They  care  nothing  for 
honor." 

"Let  us  face  them  boldly.  If  there  is  fighting  to 
do,  let  us  fight,  and  die,  if  we  must,  like  champions. 
But,  trust  me,  our  victory  will  startle  them,  and,  if 
we  appear  confident  and  act  as  victors  do,  they  will 
let  us  pass  without  a  struggle." 

The  chieftains  and  champions,  catching  Conal's 
enthusiasm,  began  to  strike  their  arms  together  in 
approval,  so  that  the  warriors  around  the  camp- 
fires  heard  the  stirring  clang  and,  raising  their 
heads,  sniffed  the  air  and  felt  about  them  for  their 
spears. 

"First  let  us  seize  two  or  three  magnates  as  hos- 
tages," Conal  continued,  "and  then  press  on.  We 
shall  all  see  the  Beltain  fires  blazing  yet  if  only  we 
do  not  give  way  to  cowardice." 

"Listen  to  me  yet  again!"  cried  the  Connaught 
aire.  "You  know  I  am  no  more  timorous  than  an- 
other, but  I  am  not  so  foolish  as  to  beat  my  head 
against  a  tree.  This  lad  thinks  with  a  young  head. 
Do  not  let  his  hasty  tongue  carry  you  away.  The 
time  is  past  to  think  of  taking  hostages  from  the 
Romans.  They  will  laugh  in  your  face  if  you  ask 
for  them,  and  to  talk  of  seizing  them  is  to  waste 
breath.  Only  a  man  of  importance,  such  as  that 
one  who  came  to  our  camp,  would  be  useful  to  us, 


THE  HOSTAGE  239 

and  such  as  he  are  too  well  guarded  to  fall  into  our 
hands." 

"And  if  he  were  in  our  power?  Do  you  doubt 
that  we  would  be  better  off  so,  than  if  you,  for  in- 
stance, were  in  Roman  fetters?" 

"It  would  be  better  for  us,  certainly;  but  it  is 
impossible." 

"By  the  gods  of  my  people !"  cried  Conal  with  an 
earnestness  that  carried  conviction.  "When  the 
sun  is  at  this  height  three  days  hence,  I  will  deliver 
him  to  you,  bound  with  thongs." 

He  caught  up  his  spears  and  the  flap  of  the  tent 
door  fell  behind  him.  A  moment's  silence  followed 
his  departure.  The  Connaughtman  would  have 
spoken  again,  but  a  burly  warrior  interrupted  him: 

"Let  the  young  chief  have  his  chance,  I  say.  He 
speaks  in  the  language  I  am  used  to  hearing  at  our 
councils,  and  for  my  part  I  will  wait  until  the  three 
days  are  past,  for  I  feel  that  he  will  do  as  he  has 
promised." 

"And  if  he  returns  without  his  hostage,"  cried 
another,  "I  for  one  will  face  the  Romans  with  him 
and  cut  my  way  out  at  his  side.  I  like  the  Romans 
best  when  I  look  at  them  over  the  edge  of  my  shield, 
and  I  swear  that  I  will  never  live  to  be  paraded  under 
guard  before  these  Gauls  whom  we  have  trodden  on." 

"We  will  all  swear!"  came  the  general  shout,  as 
the  flaiths  beat  upon  their  shields  with  their  scab- 
bards, and  they  poured  out  of  the  tent  waving  their 
swords. 

If  the  contagion  of  despair  had  quickly  brought 


240         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

the  Scots  to  the  depths  of  hopelessness,  the  sound 
of  those  violent  shouts  recalled  them  hi  a  moment 
to  their  natural  temper.  The  torpid  blood  leaped 
in  the  warriors'  veins,  and  they  came  running  from 
all  sides,  spears  in  hand.  The  clash  of  weapons  and 
the  reiterated  battle-cry  rose  all  around,  and  the 
chiefs,  looking  about  them  at  the  eager  faces  and 
martial  carriage  of  their  followers,  felt  their  own 
blood  stirring  and  wondered  why  they  had  been  so 
depressed  as  to  think  of  surrender. 

Meantime  Conal  strode  down  the  slope  to  his  own 
fire  and  called  on  his  men  to  mount  and  make  ready. 
While  the  horses  were  being  harnessed  he  had  them 
gather  a  number  of  Roman  cloaks  and  helmets  in 
case  disguise  should  be  found  necessary.  Soon  the 
chariots  moved  out  of  the  camp.  They  stopped  for 
nothing  until  night  overtook  them,  already  many 
leagues  on  the  way;  dawn  found  them  on  the  road 
again,  and  in  the  late  afternoon  they  came  in  sight 
of  the  towers  of  the  city  where  the  Roman  count 
held  his  court.  Here  they  stopped  and  hid  their 
chariots,  and  the  clansmen  captured  a  countryman 
whom  they  frightened  into  telling  them  all  they 
needed  to  know  about  the  city — where  the  count's 
lodging  was,  and  what  were  the  habits  of  the  citizens. 

At  dusk  they  moved  closer  to  the  walls  and,  circling 
them,  came  to  a  place  where  the  ancient  battlement 
had  crumbled  into  the  ditch,  making  a  breach  that 
was  passable  for  active  men.  They  muffled  them- 
selves in  the  long,  hooded  cloaks,  mounted  the  wall 
noiselessly,  passed  along  the  unguarded  banquette, 


THE  HOSTAGE  241 

and  slipped  down  the  first  flight  of  steps  into  the 
street  below.  They  found  themselves  in  a  narrow 
lane  running  parallel  with  the  wall.  It  had  once 
been  an  avenue  of  considerable  width,  made  to  per- 
mit free  passage  for  troops  from  one  part  of  the  forti- 
fications to  another,  but  houses  and  sheds  had  been 
built  all  along  it,  leaning  against  the  wall  on  one  side 
and  encroaching  on  the  roadway  on  the  other.  The 
houses  were  brightly  lighted,  and  now  and  again  a 
drunken,  ruffianly  figure  stumbled  out  of  one  of  them 
and  reeled  into  the  gutters,  or  a  brazen  and  dishev- 
elled woman  bawled  after  them.  The  quarter  was 
low  and  disorderly,  and  the  sight  of  the  group, 
wrapped  to  their  ears  and  walking  swiftly,  aroused 
no  interest  or  comment. 

A  few  moments'  walking  brought  them  to  a  hand- 
some gate  guarded  by  towers,  where  a  few  Gauls  in 
ordinary  costume,  but  with  helmets  and  bucklers, 
lounged  on  a  stone  bench.  A  broad  street  led  from 
the  gate  toward  the  centre  of  the  town,  and  they 
kept  on  past  the  guards  and  turned  into  it,  keeping 
in  the  shadow  of  the  buildings  as  far  as  they  could, 
for  the  moon  was  rising.  Here  they  separated  and 
went  two  by  two,  so  that  there  would  be  less  danger 
of  attracting  notice  and  being  accosted.  At  length 
the  street  ended  in  a  large  triangular  forum. 

An  equestrian  statue  of  some  deified  Emperor  rose 
in  the  centre,  its  marble  base  aflutter  with  the  tatters 
of  old  parchment  placards.  An  ancient  portico  in 
a  very  indifferent  state  of  repair  ran  along  one  side; 
a  basilica  and  a  market  filled  another;  on  the  third, 


242          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

as  the  countryman  had  told  them,  stood  the  palace 
of  the  count.  The  outside  of  the  building  was  not 
imposing,  a  long  stretch  of  wall  with  few  windows, 
and  those  small  and  high  up.  The  entrance  was 
through  an  arch  in  the  centre,  which  was  open  and 
unguarded. 

Conal  and  his  men  entered  without  question,  their 
military  cloaks  serving,  in  the  dim  light,  equally  as 
disguise  and  passport.  Leaving  two  men  to  wait  in 
the  vaulted  vestibule,  he  went  on  into  a  court,  beau- 
tiful with  pools  and  fountains,  orange-trees,  and  the 
delicate  whiteness  of  marble  statuary.  Through  a 
doorway  opposite  he  could  see  into  another  court 
beyond,  and  all  around  opened  the  doors  of  halls  and 
sleeping-rooms. 

As  Conal  stood  in  uncertainty,  a  burst  of  laughter 
came  from  the  inner  court  and  the  sound  of  men's 
and  women's  voices  raised  in  excitement  and  hilarity. 
At  the  same  time  several  slaves  hurried  past,  carry- 
ing, with  reverent  care,  an  amphora,  covered  with 
dust  and  cobwebs  and  closed  with  a  seal  of  cracked 
and  yellow  wax.  They  disappeared  through  the 
doorway,  and  as  they  passed  from  view  a  fresh  out- 
burst of  revelry  arose.  No  one  regarded  Conal  and 
his  men.  The  whole  household  seemed  to  be  going 
about  their  affairs  in  the  careless  confidence  of  com- 
plete security.  He  stepped  quietly  after  the  slaves 
and  found  himself  at  the  entrance  of  a  brightly 
lighted  alcove,  where  a  jolly  party  were  reclining 
around  a  table.  Wine-cups  were  set  about.  At  one 
end  of  the  table  a  young  man  was  throwing  dice. 


THE  HOSTAGE  243 

Laughing  women  hung  over  his  shoulder,  looking 
on  and  teasing  him  at  his  unsuccessful  throws.  At 
the  table's  head  the  Roman  count  sat,  watching 
jealously  while  the  slaves,  with  careful  fingers, 
picked  away  the  crumbling  seal  from  the  mouth  of 
the  amphora. 

The' men,  with  their  trailing  robes,  sleek  heads, 
and  smooth  cheeks,  the  women,  with  their  high 
pyramids  of  reddish-yellow  hair  and  their  faces 
enamelled  to  a  ghastly  and  unwholesome  pallor, 
and  especially  the  enervated  old  count,  with  his 
dull  eyes  and  sagging  cheeks,  absorbed  in  the  open- 
ing of  the  vase,  struck  Conal  with  disgust  and  re- 
pulsion. He  advanced  unnoticed,  and,  drawing  his 
sword,  slapped  the  blade  on  the  table  so  that  the 
delicate  glasses  jumped  and  tinkled. 

The  dice-thrower  looked  up,  saw  him,  and 
screamed  with  the  high-pitched  note  of  a  startled 
child.  On  the  other  side  of  the  table  another  man, 
with  his  hand  at  his  throat,  began  to  back  slowly 
toward  a  door,  his  eyes  strained  open  with  fright. 
The  others  sat  still,  staring  uncertainly  from  the 
stern  figure  which  confronted  them,  sword  in  hand, 
to  the  cloaked  and  hooded  group  at  his  back.  Only 
the  count  gave  no  sign  of  surprise  or  dismay,  but 
lifted  his  weary  eyes  to  Conal's  and  faced  him  apa- 
thetically. Not  a  word  was  spoken;  two  of  the 
clansmen,  stepping  forward  at  Conal's  signal,  passed 
a  thong  about  the  Roman's  wrists  and  put  a  gag 
in  his  mouth.  He  yielded  himself  to  their  hands  as 
indifferently  as  he  would  have  to  those  of  a  rubber 


244         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

at  the  baths,  and,  at  a  touch,  rose  and  walked  be- 
tween them.  They  passed  through  the  court  and 
into  the  street.  Conal  waited  until  they  had  time 
to  get  away,  and  then  followed.  Not  a  sound  came 
from  the  alcove  as  he  walked  deliberately  out  of  the 
palace;  the  Gauls  were  purchasing  their  lives  at  the 
count's  expense,  and  the  price,  to  them,  was  a  cheap 
one.  Before  the  sudden  turmoil  came  that  told 
that  the  alarm  was  given,  the  Scots  and  their  pris- 
oner were  lost  in  the  dark  alleys  beyond  the  forum. 

Flickering  torches  tossed  behind  them,  hurrying 
feet  pattered  on  the  \  avlng  in  the  distance,  but  they 
gained  the  narrow  lane  by  the  wall  without  chal- 
lenge, and  hustled  their  captive  up  the  steps  and 
down  over  the  crumbling  debris  to  the  other  side  of 
the  moat. 

Here  they  threw  off  the  muffling  cloaks  and  caught 
the  count  up  between  them  like  a  sack.  The  wist- 
ful neighing  of  the  horses  guided  them.  A  little 
time  of  blundering  through  gardens  and  hedges 
and,  with  a  rumble  of  heavy  wheels  and  a  clatter  of 
impatient  hoofs,  they  were  on  their  way  back  to  the 
army,  successful. 

The  city  buzzed  like  a  hive  behind  them.  Tiny 
lights  went  wavering  along  where  the  belated  pa- 
trols were  bootlessly  tramping  the  walls,  and  horse- 
men, venturing  from  the  opened  gates,  began  to 
beat  the  fringes  of  the  woods,  but  the  Scots  were 
already  far  beyond  pursuit. 

By  the  third  day,  when  Conal  had  promised  to 
return,  the  army  had  begun  to  waver  again.  Those 


THE  HOSTAGE  245 

who  still  had  faith  in  the  young  chiefs  daring 
strained  their  eyes  watching  the  road  to  the  west- 
ward. Suddenly  a  cry  went  up:  "They  are  com- 
ing !"  and  some  of  the  watchers  declared  they  could 
see  dust  in  the  distance  and  dark  figures  under  it. 
Soon  the  yellow  patch  and  the  black  spots  were 
plain  to  all  eyes,  and  as  the  word  was  passed  the 
warriors  came  running  up  in  great  numbers,  until 
the  whole  band  was  gathered  together,  waiting. 
Those  who  had  mounts  went  out  to  meet  Conal 
and  came  dashing  back  to  announce  that  the  count 
was  really  taken. 

Then,  through  the  lane  that  suddenly  opened  for 
them,  appeared  the  chariots,  with  the  old  Roman 
sitting  at  Conal's  right  hand,  still  preserving  his 
air  of  listlessness  and  meeting  the  triumphant  eyes 
of  the  Scots  with  looks  of  indifference.  Now  no  one 
thought  more  of  peril  or  difficulty.  Even  more  than 
by  the  security  the  possession  of  so  important  a 
captive  gave  them,  they  were  cheered  by  the  fact 
that  with  only  a  handful  of  men  one  of  their  chiefs 
had  penetrated  a  Gaulish  city  unmolested.  After 
the  success  of  that  exploit  nothing  seemed  impos- 
sible; they  scorned  the  enemy  now  and  were  as 
self-confident  as  before  they  had  been  dubious. 
Every  man  boasted  of  what  he  would  do  when  they 
faced  the  legions  again,  and  their  temper  was  such 
that  one  would  have  said  their  boasts  were  no  more 
than  justified. 

As  for  Conal,  he  was  almost  a  demigod.  As  he 
passed  through  the  gathered  warriors  they  saluted 


246         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

him  with  a  submission  they  had  hardly  given  to 
Dathi.  No  sooner  had  he  bathed  and  eaten  than 
the  flaiths  gathered  around  him  and  began  to  ques- 
tion him  about  the  dispositions  that  should  be  made. 
Without  a  word  being  spoken,  he  found  himself 
with  the  reins  of  command  hi  his  hands,  the  acknowl- 
edged leader  of  the  army. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

• 

BETRAYED 

Three  months  before,  if  Conal  had  been  asked 
what  his  feelings  would  be  were  he  to  be  raised 
suddenly  to  so  high  a  command,  he  would  have 
answered  without  hesitation  that  nothing  could  give 
him  cause  for  keener  pride,  but  now,  when  the  army 
stood  obedient,  waiting  his  word,  and  the  gray-haired 
warriors  asked  deferentially,  "Which  way  do  we 
march,  then,  noble  Conal?"  he  felt  no  gratification 
whatever. 

As  his  responsibility  had  weighed  upon  him  when 
first  the  outlaws  had  made  him  their  chief,  so  now 
the  burden  of  care  that  his  advancement  brought 
with  it  oppressed  him.  The  knowledge  that  the 
lives  and  fortunes  of  so  many  depended  on  his  pru- 
dence, the  necessity  of  instant  choice  among  a 
dozen  difficult  expedients,  the  troublesome  sense  of 
his  own  inexperience  (so  impossible  to  ignore  or 
minimize),  all  seemed  so  formidable  that  he  was 
overwhelmed  with  an  agony  of  uncertainty  and  self- 
mistrust.  He  would  have  been  glad,  indeed,  to 
have  been  back  in  his  old  place,  fighting  thought- 
lessly under  a  leader  upon  whom  he  relied. 

But  these  modest  misgivings  did  not  wholly  pos- 

247 


248          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

sess  him.  When  he  remembered  how  the  first  war- 
riors of  the  army  had  hung  back  and  counselled 
surrender  while  he  alone  had  withstood  them  with 
undiminished  spirit,  he  began  to  feel  that  perhaps, 
after  all,  a  bold  heart  was  not  such  a  bad  substitute 
for  an  old  head.  For  the  rest,  he  trusted  that 
circumstances  would  guide  and  necessity  inspire 
him. 

He  gave  his  orders  with  a  show  of  readiness  and 
confidence,  and  soon  the  wagons  went  rumbling 
through  the  camp  and  the  army  was  again  on  the 
homeward  road. 

Now  there  began  for  Conal  a  time  of  trial  and 
worry.  Some  who  had  had  Dathi's  ear  were  not 
pleased  when  they  found  their  claims  overlooked  by 
Conal;  some  who  had  acclaimed  his  exploit  the 
loudest  found  him  less  to  their  minds  when  he  in- 
sisted on  sobriety  and  prompt  obedience.  The 
sight  of  the  Roman  discipline  left  an  undercurrent 
of  discontent  in  his  mind.  He  labored  constantly 
to  keep  the  army  in  hand,  and  succeeded  in  improv- 
ing their  efficiency  at  the  expense  of  jealousies  and 
discontent.  Indeed  numerous  small  bodies,  par- 
ticularly the  clans  which  followed  their  own  chiefs, 
seized  occasions  to  turn  aside  into  byways  and  take 
their  own  direction.  They  never  saw  these  men 
again,  whether  they  won  then*  way  at  length  to  the 
coast,  or  were  snapped  up  by  the  legionaries,  or 
surrounded  and  overwhelmed  by  bodies  of  Gauls. 

For  the  Gauls  followed  constantly  on  their  tracks, 
not  daring  to  attack  them,  but  cutting  off  small 


BETRAYED 


249 


parties  when  they  could,  and  the  Roman  horse- 
men could  be  seen  on  the  hills,  keeping  pace  with 
them. 

At  their  first  camp  a  Roman  officer  came  clatter- 
ing up  with  a  green  bough,  and  arranged  the  terms 
on  which  they  were  to  be  permitted  to  pass  without 
a  battle;  he  promised  all  manner  of  things  if  only 
they  would  set  the  count  free,  but  to  this  Conal 
would  not  agree.  They  arranged  at  last  that  the 
Romans  should  furnish  meat  and  grain  for  the  Scots, 
that  the  count's  life  should  be  spared,  and  that  he 
should  be  released  when  they  reached  the  seacoast. 
The  Roman  departed  apparently  satisfied,  but  Conal 
did  not  trust  him  wholly,  and  when  they  approached 
the  low  range  of  mountains  that  separated  them  from 
Aquitania  he  sought  guides  among  the  natives  and 
crossed  by  another  pass  for  fear  of  an  ambush  in 
the  one  which  they  had  used  in  their  advance. 

If  there  was  any  cause  for  his  fears  or  not,  they 
got  across  without  alarm,  saw  the  villa-crowned  hills 
of  Greater  Gaul  again,  and  wet  then-  feet  in  the  swift, 
narrow  tributaries  of  the  Seine  and  Loire. 

At  first  the  Queen  fell  in  graciously  with  her  part 
and  duly  observed  the  decorum  of  widowhood,  but 
as  time  went  on  she  began  to  grow  tired  of  restraint 
and  solemnity.  She  seemed  jealous  of  her  position, 
demanded  a  parade  of  respect  and  tried  to  assert 
herself  hi  petty  ways.  Moreover,  she  soon  grew 
impatient  with  gloomy  faces  and  funereal  ceremony. 
The  sight  of  the  King's  bier  being  carried  along  with 
them  always,  depressed  her.  She  first  hinted  and 


250         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

then  openly  proposed  to  abandon  it,  and  when  Conal 
recoiled  at  the  notion,  became  sulky,  felt  abused, 
and  began  to  make  mischief  for  him.  She  demanded 
cheerfulness  of  her  girls,  and  encouraged  the  younger 
flaiths  to  throw  off  depression  and  amuse  her  with 
songs  and  jollity.  Some  of  them  were  willing  to 
minister  to  her  mood,  but  most  were  repelled  by 
her  levity,  and,  being  hard  pressed  at  times  for 
amusement,  she  turned  for  entertainment  to  the 
Roman  prisoner. 

The  count  was  carried  along  with  them,  unresist- 
ing, unresponsive,  preserving  always  his  air  of  apathy. 
The  danger  and  helplessness  of  his  position  did  not 
affect  him;  he  endured  discomfort  without  protest; 
the  only  thing  which  had  power  to  move  him  from 
his  indifference  and  bring  complaints  to  his  lips 
was  the  food  they  gave  him,  and  more  particularly 
the  cookery.  This  he  criticised  freely,  abusing  the 
barbarity  of  his  captors  who  could  be  satisfied  with 
such  fare  and  even  expect  him,  Aetius,  a  Roman 
born,  Count  of  the  Palace,  and  Prefect  of  the  Prov- 
ince of  Gaul,  to  stomach  it.  The  Scots  at  first 
listened  to  him  in  amazement,  but  at  length  his 
colossal  effrontery  struck  their  fancy,  and  they 
would  howl  with  laughter  to  hear  him  complain, 
until  Conal  cut  his  protests  short  by  allowing  him 
a  Gaulish  slave  to  dress  his  food,  which  satisfied  him 
somewhat,  although  he  still  grumbled  at  tunes  at 
the  lack  of  eels,  oysters,  and  Grecian  wine. 

As  a  matter  of  course  he  made  himself  always 
as  comfortable  as  he  could  and,  rinding  a  welcome 


BETRAYED  251 

in  the  Queen's  tent,  lounged  there  In  the  evenings. 
Nessa  liked  to  listen  while  he  talked  regretfully  of 
the  pleasures  of  the  Gaulish  cities.  She  found  his 
world  attractive;  he  found  her  handsome  and 
sprightly.  They  got  along  excellently  together. 

Two  "warriors  guarded  him  at  all  times.  He 
would  talk  with  them,  when  they  happened  to  un- 
derstand Latin,  on  subjects  of  no  moment,  looking 
askance  at  them  out  of  his  languid  old  eyes,  appar- 
ently always  on  the  point  of  breaking  off  talk  from 
sheer  lack  of  interest,  but  in  reality  ever  sounding 
and  testing  them  subtly,  dropping  now  a  question, 
now  a  hint,  now  a  simple  bald  remark  that  meant 
nothing  at  the  time  but  was  framed  to  recur  later 
to  the  one  addressed  and  give  rise  to  thought,  per- 
haps to  fear  or  greed.  For  the  Roman  did  not  for 
a  moment  believe  that  Conal  meant  to  carry  out 
his  promise  of  releasing  him;  he  had  no  doubt 
that  he  was  destined  to  be  taken  to  Eirinn  as  a  slave 
or  left  on  the  seashore  dead,  and  he  was  determined 
to  free  himself  by  force  or  corruption  at  the  first 
opportunity. 

Of  those  who  guarded  him,  he  gradually  singled 
out  two  who  might  not  have  seemed  particularly 
responsive  to  another.  They  were  Leinstermen,  a 
strange  pair,  inclined  to  keep  to  themselves  unless 
there  was  fighting  afoot,  when  they  had  done  their 
part  with  the  rest.  They  seemed  not  to  mind  the 
tiresome  duty  of  dogging  the  Roman's  footsteps, 
and  were  consequently  imposed  upon  by  their  fel- 
lows, who  shifted  the  unpleasant  service  onto  them 


252          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

more  frequently  than  was  fair.  When  not  at  this 
task  they  were  generally  to  be  found  somewhere  in 
Conal's  neighborhood  (for  they  seemed  to  take  an 
unobtrusive  interest  in  his  comings  and  goings),  or 
riding  with  their  heads  together  engaged  in  inter- 
minable low-voiced  colloquies. 

The  count  must  have  found  something  in  them 
to  give  him  hope  of  winning  them  to  his  purpose, 
for  he  began  to  speak  more  plainly  to  them,  and  they 
listened  sullenly,  neither  repulsing  nor  encouraging 
him. 

The  army  followed  the  river  valley,  keeping  on 
the  opposite  shore  from  the  road  they  had  followed 
when  they  were  coming.  They  progressed  steadily, 
for  they  were  filled  with  such  a  desire  to  see  the  last 
of  Gaul  that  they  grudged  even  the  infrequent  days 
of  rest  that  Conal  gave  them.  The  mountains  re- 
ceded behind  them,  diminished,  and  were  dissolved 
in  the  distance;  the  white  villa  walls  and  long  vine- 
terraces  flowed  past  them;  the  chiming  church-bells, 
sombre  and  elusive  voices,  rang  along  the  horizon 
as  they  had  rung  when  they  were  pressing  on  to 
Italy.  One  day  they  greeted  with  delight  a  distant 
view  of  the  city  which  they  had  carried  on  the  first 
day  of  their  landing,  the  city  which  Dathi  had  given 
to  the  sack. 

The  Roman  count  was  riding  beside  Nessa.  The 
two  Leinstermen  were  guarding  him  and  rode  close 
behind.  No  one  else  was  within  earshot  except  a 
slave  dozing  astride  one  of  the  Queen's  horses. 
Suddenly  Nessa  turned  and  spoke  to  the  Roman 


BETRAYED  253 

with  the  air  of  one  continuing  a  talk  which  had  been 
broken  off  but  a  moment  before. 

"Do  you  begin  to  fear  now,  Aetius?  We  are 
close  to  the  sea,  and  when  we  are  safe  at  the  shore 
Conal  will  surely  cut  your  throat." 

The  Roman  opened  his  eyes  with  a  look  of  tired 
protest. 

"I  have  made  my  arrangements,"  he  said  care- 
lessly. 

"One  would  think  you  cared  nothing  for  your 
neck,"  said  the  Queen  admiringly.  "No  one  can 
frighten  you,  that  is  certain." 

"Why  should  I  be  disturbed?"  yawned  the 
Roman.  "We  understand  one  another.  But  you 
must  make  haste;  there  is  no  time  to  waste." 

Nessa  turned  and  beckoned  the  Leinstermen  to 
approach. 

"There  is  little  time  to  lose  now,"  she  said  mean- 
ingly. 

They  understood  her  perfectly. 

"There  is  no  moon  to-night,"  said  one  of  them 
considering.  "But  let  us  speak  plainly.  The 
Roman  must  put  us  safely  aboard  ship." 

"That  is  understood,"  said  Aetius. 

"We  will  take  Conal  with  us,  and  he  is  ours  to 
do  with  as  we  please." 

"You  may  flay  him  to-morrow  for  what  I  care. 
But  if  you  try  to  take  him  from  the  midst  of  the 
army  you  will  spoil  everything." 

"That  is  for  us  to  see  to.  We  will  do  nothing 
unless  you  agree  to  that." 


254         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

"It  does  not  matter  to  me.  Once  you  set  us  in 
a  camp  of  the  legionaries,  you  can  take  your  choice 
of  rewards  and  return  when  you  like.  If  you  choose 
to  cumber  yourselves  with  Conal  that  is  your  own 
affair." 

The  Leinstermen  exchanged  a  glance  of  satisfac- 
tion. They  rode  on  in  silence  until  a  trumpet 
sounded  from  the  ranks  ahead,  and  the  army,  flow- 
ing out  over  the  fields  on  both  sides,  prepared  to 
cook  and  camp. 

While  they  were  lighting  the  fires  Conal  called 
one  of  the  veteran -warriors  to  him,  a  man  well  versed 
in  hunter's  craft  and  mastery  of  the  woods,  and  told 
him  to  choose  himself  a  swift  horse  and  make  all 
preparations  for  going  on  an  errand  of  great  impor- 
tance. Before  the  meal  was  over  the  man  returned, 
mounted  and  ready. 

"There  is  a  little  seacoast  town,  not  far  from  the 
mouth  of  the  river,"  said  Conal.  "It  is  called  the 
town  of  the  Veneti,  or  so  the  name  is  in  my 
memory." 

"That  is  the  name,"  replied  the  soldier,  "and  I 
know  the  place  well,  for  ships  often  pass  between 
it  and  our  coast." 

"To-night  you  must  slip  past  the  Romans,  who, 
I  doubt  not,  are  riding  as  usual  before  and  behind 
us,  and  when  you  are  sure  you  have  eluded  them, 
make  straight  for  that  town.  Buadach,  the  sea- 
captain,  will  be  waiting  there,  for  such  were  Dathi's 
commands.  Tell  him  to  gather  the  boats  of  the 
war  fleet  with  all  speed  and  bring  them  on  the 


BETRAYED  255 

fourth  day  to  the  mouth  of  the  river.  I  will  call 
him  with  smoke  signals — if  he  sees  none,  let  him 
anchor  there  and  wait  for  us.  Have  you  the  mes- 
sage in  your  memory  or  shall  I  cut  it  in  oghams  for 
you?" 

"I  will  not  forget  a  word  of  it,"  the  messenger 
protested.  "And  I  will  have  him  there  on  the 
fourth  day  as  you  say." 

"Come,  then,"  said  Conal,  "for  I  will  walk  with 
you  a  little  way  and  see  you  safely  on  your  road." 

They  passed  between  the  groups  of  sleeping  men 
and  the  dying  fires,  and  when  they  had  gotten  be- 
yond the  confines  of  the  camp  Conal  stopped  and 
let  the  other  go  on  alone.  The  night  was  black 
and  he  was  soon  lost  from  sight.  When  he  could  be 
seen  no  more,  Conal  turned  and  began  retracing  his 
steps  to  the  camp.  The  first  fire  was  only  a  few 
paces  beyond;  he  had  no  thought  of  danger  or 
alarm;  he  heard  no  noise,  no  movement  warned 
him;  suddenly  a  terrible  blow  struck  him  down 
from  behind,  deft  hands  bound  him  fast,  and  strong 
arms  lifted  him  and  carried  him  away  into  the  dark- 
ness. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
A  CHAT  IN  A  GUEST-HOUSE 

Two  men  were  drinking  in  a  guest-house  on  the 
great  road  from  Connaught  up  to  Tara.  It  was 
early  twilight,  the  hour  when  travellers  begin  to 
look  about  them  for  shelter,  and  when  guest-house 
keepers  send  out  then*  servants  to  meet  strangers 
and  bring  them  where  comfort  and  good  cheer  await 
them.  The  day  had  been  warm,  but  now  as  night 
came  on  a  pleasant  stirring  of  the  air  filled  the  room 
and  covered  the  tables  with  the  powdery  wood  ashes 
that  lay  white  on  the  hearth.  Refreshed  by  then- 
recent  bath  after  the  dust  of  the  road,  the  two  felt 
that  there  was  no  more  comfortable  spot  in  the 
world  than  their  corner  of  the  airy  hall.  As  the 
ashes  sifted  into  their  mead-cups  they  smiled  hi 
mutual  good  humor,  touched  horns,  and  drank  long 
and  with  satisfaction. 

They  were  both  men  of  the  noble  class  and  of 
the  profession  of  arms.  One  was  a  man  of  unusual 
size  and  strength,  a  very  blond  giant,  and  as  is  often 
the  case  with  his  like,  he  seemed  rather  honest  and 
good-natured  than  excessively  intelligent.  While 
there  was  no  weakness  in  his  face  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  simplicity;  his  large  and  clear  eyes  looked 
out  on  the  world  with  confidence  and  satisfaction; 

256 


A  CHAT  IN  A  GUEST-HOUSE  257 

he  was  not  a  man  to  be  given  to  suspicion  or  to  be 
quick  to  take  offense,  but  he  gave  promise  of  stub- 
bornness if  once  aroused.  He  seemed  the  sort  of 
person  who  makes  up  his  mind  slowly  but  is  most 
unlikely  to  change  it. 

The.  other  guest  was  short,  thick-set,  and  of  a 
dark  complexion.  Though  probably  the  equal  of 
the  blond  man  physically,  his  form  lacked  the  sym- 
metrical development  and  just  proportion  tliat 
saved  the  other's  bulk  from  seeming  cumbersome. 
His  shoulders  were  a  trifle  too  broad,  his  arms  a 
thought  too  long.  Mentally  he  was  plainly  the 
superior  of  the  two.  His  face  was  alight  with  in- 
telligence and  subtlety,  though  tinged  with  the  quick 
and  arrogant  temper  that  in  some  natures  robs  craft 
of  half  its  advantage  over  simpler  minds.  His  skin 
had  an  unhealthy  pallor  as  of  one  just  recovered 
from  serious  sickness;  his  head  was  muffled  in  a 
linen  scarf,  wound  in  many  folds  about  his  temples, 
and  the  scar  of  a  recent  and  grievous  wound  appeared 
from  under  it  and  ran  down  to  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

"So  you  have  never  seen  Ard-Macha,"  the  blond 
man  was  saying,  as  he  put  down  his  horn  and 
leaned  back  in  comfortable  relaxation.  "That  is 
a  pity.  The  finest  rath  in  the  land  and  in  the 
finest  province.  Men  say  that  Emain  Macha  was 
a  grander  place  in  its  time,  and  it  may  be  so,  but 
Ard-Macha  is  the  chief  of  all  palaces  to-day." 

"The  rath  of  Cruachan  is  a  noble  house,"  said 
the  dark  man  idly. 

"No  more  than  a  hut  beside  Ard-Macha.     Should 


258         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

I  not  know,  who  have  lived  there  for  three  dismal 
years?" 

"How  dismal?  Cruachan  has  a  great  name  for 
sports  and  feasting  and  contentions.  Was  there 
some  girl  there  who  liked  Connaught  kisses  better 
than  those  of  Ulster,  or  did  Dathi's  service  not  suit 
you?" 

"Oh,  as  for  the  maidens,  I  cannot  complain,"  re- 
plied the  other,  throwing  out  his  chest  a  little,  "  and 
it  was  not  that  I  was  in  Dathi's  service.  I  wish  it 
had  been  that,  for  I  would  have  been  free  then  to 
leave  when  I  liked,  and  I  would  long  ago  have  been 
back  in  Ulster.  No,  I  was  there  as  a  hostage." 

"It  is  a  distinction  to  be  chosen  for  that  service," 
said  the  dark  man,  since  the  compliment  was  evi- 
dently expected. 

"I  do  not  say  it  is  not,"  replied  the  other  with  an 
air  of  conscious  modesty.  "When  we  exchanged 
hostages  with  the  Connaughtmen  we  offered  them 
three  aires,  well-known  men,  too;  but  'No/  they 
said,  'we  will  be  satisfied  with  none  but  Cathbar's 
son  Ferdiad ! '  Well,  they  had  reason.  I  had 
thumped  them  soundly  from  time  to  tune.  All  the 
same  it  was  gratifying." 

At  the  name  the  dark  man's  eye  quickened  and 
he  swept  his  companion's  face  with  a  look  of  keen 
inquiry.  A  moment  later  and  his  face  was  masked 
again  with  his  former  look  of  idle  good  humor. 

"And  what  treatment  did  they  give  you  at  Cru- 
achan, son  of  Cathbar?" 

"As  good  as  one  could  wish.    They  gave  me  the 


A  CHAT  IN  A  GUEST-HOUSE  259 

freedom  of  the  court  and  I  would  have  enjoyed  my- 
self greatly  if  it  had  not  been  for  homesickness  and 
lack  of  news.  I  do  not  know  what  has  been  happen- 
ing among  my  own  people  these  three  years,  and  that 
is  why  I  am  so  impatient  to  be  home  again." 

"I  go  here  and  there  and  pick  up  news  as  I  go. 
Though  I  have  not  been  as  far  as  Ard-Macha,  I 
passed  through  the  borders  of  Ulster  recently  and 
perhaps  I  could  tell  you  something  of  your  people, 
did  I  know  what  your  clan  is." 

"I  am  of  the  Tuath  of  Fiacra.  Can  you  tell  me 
anything  of  their  doings?" 

"Indeed  I  can;  the  old  chief  is  dead." 

"All  the  more  reason  for  me  to  hasten  home.  I 
am  king-material  hi  the  clan,  and  I  am  telling  you 
no  secret  when  I  say  that  it  is  likely  that  I  will  be 
chief  in  his  place." 

"It  is  too  late  for  that,  I  fear,"  said  the  dark  man 
with  a  show  of  reluctance,  "for  I  remember  hearing 
that  he  had  a  tanist  who  will  take  his  place." 

"Well,  well!"  said  Ferdiad,  his  face  falling  ludi- 
crously. "A  tanist !  I  knew  nothing  of  that.  Did 
you  chance  to  hear  his  name?" 

"If  I  remember  rightly  it  was  Conal." 

"Conal?  I  never  knew  of  any  Conal  who  was  of 
the  blood,  except — no,  it  is  impossible — except  my 
own  younger  brother,  but  he  is  still  hi  fosterage." 

"That  may  well  be  he,"  replied  the  man  with  the 
scar.  "I  heard  that  he  was  very  young  and  some 
opposed  him  on  that  account,  but  a  certain  Mesgedra, 
a  man  of  Meath,  one  of  the  High  King's  officers, 


260         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

supported  him,  and  the  boy  got  the  place  through 
his  influence." 

"And  by  what  right  did  he  interfere?"  cried  Fer- 
diad  jealously.  "Has  he  no  clan  of  his  own  that  he 
must  mix  in  our  debates?" 

"No  doubt  it  was  in  Dathi's  interest  that  he  was 
acting.  You  know  how  Dathi  has  worked  in  the 
past  to  bring  men  to  support  him;  it  would  be  a 
great  gain  for  him  to  have  the  chief  of  so  strong  a 
clan  depend  on  him  for  his  place." 

"This  is  unbearable,"  cried  Ferdiad,  pounding  on 
the  table  in  his  vexation.  "While  I  live  Dathi 
shall  never  boast  that  the  headship  of  the  clan  of 
Fiacra  is  his  to  dispose  of.  Understand  me,  I  have 
no  quarrel  with  Conal.  He  has  a  right  to  be  chief 
if  he  were  fairly  chosen,  but  I  will  not  sit  by  quietly 
and  see  him  elevated  beyond  his  due  to  serve 
Dathi's  ambition." 

"Indeed  I  think  you  are  in  the  right.  The  chief 
of  such  a  clan  should  be  something  more  than  the 
High  King's  tool.  Without  some  underhand  deal- 
ing they  would  never  have  chosen  an  untried  lad 
for  chief  before  a  seasoned  man  like  yourself.  You 
have  no  blemish  that  would  bar  you?" 

"There  is  not  so  much  as  a  wen  on  me  from  my 
head  to  my  heels.  No,  it  was  nothing  like  that. 
I  can  see.  I  am  not  blind.  There  has  been  plot- 
ting and  mischief-making.  While  I  have  been  serv- 
ing the  clan  they  have  conspired  to  set  us  all  under 
Dathi's  heel.  Conal!  He  can  barely  have  taken 
arms  by  now." 


A  CHAT  IN  A  GUEST-HOUSE  261 

"I  heard  that  he  had  fought  with  Firbis  of  Lein- 
ster,"  said  the  dark  man,  watching  Ferdiad  narrowly. 

"What  is  that?  A  single  fight,  where  I  can  show 
twenty.  I  will  not  be  quiet  under  it.  They  will 
find  they  did  wrong  to  forget  me.  The  whole  clan 
is  not  at  Dathi's  beck.  There  are  men  who  have 
followed  me  before  who  will  not  see  their  old  leader 
wronged  when  once  I  appear  and  call  on  them  in 
the  name  of  old  friendship." 

"Certainly  they  have  treated  you  unfairly,  but, 
as  you  say,  there  is  still  tune.  Take  my  advice 
and  go  on  with  all  speed.  The  clan  may  have 
thought  better  of  their  choice  by  now  or  may  think 
better  of  it  when  they  see  you  present  and  remember 
your  services." 

Ferdiad  rose  and  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the 
room,  clenching  and  opening  his  fingers,  while  the 
sense  of  injury  done  him  grew  more  bitter  in  his 
mind. 

"It  is  well  that  I  heard  of  this,"  he  burst  out  at 
last.  "I  will  not  linger  here  while  my  birthright  is 
stolen  from  me.  Are  you  for  Ulster? — for  I  would 
be  glad  of  your  company  on  the  way." 

"I  go  toward  Cruachan,"  replied  the  other. 
"And  I  have  been  long  on  the  road;  and  as  this  is 
a  comfortable  house  and  well  managed,  I  think  I 
shall  bide  here  the  three  days  and  three  nights  the 
law  allows  me,  before  I  go  on  again.  Well,  I  wish 
you  luck  of  your  home-coming,  and  when  next  I 
pass  through  Ulster  I  trust  I  will  find  you  hi  your 
rightful  place  in  spite  of  all  the  High  King's  minions." 


262          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

" Seek  me  at  my  dun,"  said  Ferdiad  heartily.  "It 
is  not  far  from  Emain  Macha.  There  will  be  a  wel- 
come before  you  whether  you  come  in  feast  time  or 
famine,  for  you  deserve  a  good  return  for  your  news, 
which  is  like  to  save  me  from  a  shameful  slight  at 
the  hands  of  those  who  owe  me  better  treatment. 
And  now  I  must  take  leave  of  the  brugaid,  and 
make  excuses  for  my  haste." 

He  grasped  the  dark  man's  hand  with  vigor  and 
left  the  room.  In  a  little  while  his  voice  was  heard 
calling  sharply  for  his  chariot,  and  the  groaning  of 
wheels  soon  told  of  his  departure. 

The  other,  left  alone,  soberly  finished  his  cup  of 
mead.  As  he  drank,  his  level,  non-committal  smile 
gradually  gave  way  to  a  leer  of  malicious  triumph. 
He  laughed  aloud  with  a  high  croaking  note  and, 
pushing  back  the  scarf  from  his  forehead,  passed  his 
fingers  lightly  over  the  tender  new  skin  of  the  scar. 
Thus  exposed,  the  wound  was  a  frightful  one  indeed. 
Over  his  ear  was  a  great  dent  where  the  bones  of 
the  skull  had  been  crushed  and  bent  in  upon  the 
brain.  The  scar  ran  from  the  eyebrow  back  over 
his  ear  almost  to  the  neck.  He  touched  it  with  a 
fondling  motion  and  his  lips  moved  in  sly,  noise- 
less, self-communion. 

"If  one  turn  does  not  serve  another  will,"  he  mut- 
tered at  last.  "I  will  leave  no  stone  unturned,  no 
wile  neglected.  I  have  suffered  and  they  must 
suffer,  Conal  first,  next  Mesgedra,  then  Cathbar." 

The  mood  passed;  he  readjusted  his  bandage  and 
addressed  himself  to  a  fresh  cup  of  mead. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  MAN  WITH  THE  HAY-WAIN 

From  the  day  of  Conal's  advancement  to  the 
High  King's  favor,  the  day  when  he  had  turned  on 
her  in  the  midst  of  her  teasing  and  silenced  her  with 
mysteriously  bitter  reproaches,  Etain  had  been  grow- 
ing steadily  more  miserable.  His  unexpected  and 
furious  upbraidings  had  left  her  in  such  humiliation 
that  at  first  she  could  hardly  hold  up  her  head  be- 
fore the  world.  That  passed,  and  was  followed  by 
an  intense  homesickness  that  drowned  every  other 
feeling.  Lately  the  many  misfortunes  which  had 
come  upon  them,  so  much  shed  blood,  so  many  dead 
before  her  eyes,  had  been  enough  in  themselves  to 
make  her  melancholy  if  she  had  had  no  troubles  of 
her  own  to  depress  her. 

The  worst  of  it  was  that  there  was  no  one  in  whom 
she  could  confide,  or  of  whom  she  could  ask  com- 
fort. She  had  made  no  close  friendships  among  the 
other  maidens;  they  were  all  older  and  more  used 
to  the  world  than  she,  and  the  Queen's  favor  had 
set  her  a  little  apart  from  them  and  given  them 
many  imaginary  reasons  for  shutting  her  out  from 
their  intimacy.  As  for  the  Queen  herself,  she  still 
had  a  languid  liking  for  the  girl,  but  Etain  estimated 

263 


264         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

her  at  her  true  worth  and  set  little  store  upon  her 
affection. 

Heartily  she  wished  that  she  had  never  left  Eirinn. 
Swaying  along  in  her  litter  through  the  slow,  tedious 
marches,  she  wondered  if  ever  she  would  see  her 
home  again  and  feel  her  father's  kind,  comforting 
arms  about  her,  and  if,  even  there,  she  would  ever 
feel  in  herself  again  the  old  joyous  spirit  that  had 
departed. 

When  evening  came  she  forced  herself  through 
her  round  of  duties  in  Nessa's  presence,  dutifully 
keeping  up  the  show  of  cheerfulness  which  the  Queen 
demanded.  At  night  she  cried  herself  to  sleep. 

When  at  last  their  camp  was  pitched  within  sight 
of  the  first  city  they  had  seen  in  Gaul,  Etain  could 
hardly  bring  herself  to  realize  that  the  sea  lay  just 
beyond,  that  their  toils  and  dangers  were  almost 
done  with.  There  was  rejoicing  in  the  Queen's  tent 
that  night,  but  she  held  apart  from  it  and  went  to 
bed  as  soon  as  she  could,  for  she  had  to  rise  early 
and  attend  the  Queen  on  her  awakening. 

In  the  morning  she  went  into  Nessa's  tent  be- 
times and  found  the  bed  empty.  She  thought 
nothing  of  that,  although  Nessa  was  not  usually  of 
so  wakeful  a  habit,  but  when  she  began  to  set  the 
tent  to  rights  she  was  surprised  at  finding  none  of 
the  jewels  and  caskets  which  usually  would  be  strewn 
about.  She  made  a  hasty  search.  Gowns  were 
missing  also.  It  was  strange. 

She  stood  still  in  the  centre  of  the  tent  and  won- 
dered. Presently  she  heard  the  wrangling  of  voices 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  HAY-WAIN        265 

outside.  She  went  to  the  tent  door  and  peered 
out,  and  found  a  warrior  disputing  with  one  of  the 
guards  and  demanding  speech  with  the  Queen.  He 
saw  her  and  appealed  to  her,  and  she,  doubtful  what 
was  best  to  be  done,  came  out  to  hear  what  he  had 
to  say.  - 

The  warrior  was  disturbed  and  very  vehement. 

"I  would  speak  with  the  Queen,  lady,"  he  said 
breathlessly,  "but  the  guards  refuse  me.  Ask  her 
if  she  will  not  see  me,  for  it  is  a  matter  of  moment 
and  urgency." 

"It  is  not  usual  for  the  Queen  to  be  disturbed  so 
early,"  said  Etain  evasively.  "At  least  you  must 
tell  me  who  you  are  and  what  is  your  business." 

"I  am  Rudrig,  of  the  Clan  of  the  Raven,  one  of 
Conal's  men,  and  I  have  come  to  tell  the  Queen 
that  my  chief  is  missing  since  dusk  last  night  and 
is  not  to  be  found  in  the  camp.  Nor  can  the  old 
Roman  be  found,  nor  the  two  who  guarded  him 
yesterday,  either." 

Etain  stood  for  a  moment  writh  bent  head,  then 
turned  very  quickly  and  went  into  the  tent.  She 
came  out  again  directly  with-  her  cloak  over  her 
head,  pulled  the  curtain  close  behind  her  and  said 
to  the  guard:  "See  that  no  one  enters." 

"I  will  come  with  you,  Rudrig,"  she  went  on 
quietly,  "and  you  can  tell  me  more  as  we  go  along. 
Who  saw  him  last?" 

"Conal?  I  suppose  I  must  have  seen  him  as 
lately  as  any  one.  He  was  walking  toward  the  trees 
yonder  beside  a  man  on  horseback.  One  of  Dathi's 


266         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

own  men.  I  know  him  and  he  is  to  be  trusted.  I 
think  the  chief  was  sending  him  on  some  errand. 
That  was  yesterday  at  dusk." 

"And  the  Roman?" 

"No  one  has  seen  him  since  he  left  the  Queen's 
tent  last  night.  They  were  drinking  there  until 
late." 

"Have  you  spoken  of  this  to  any  one?" 

"Only  to  others  of  the  clan,  except  that  I  have 
asked  a  few  questions.  Shall  we  not  have  horse- 
men sent  out  round  and  about,  and  have  search 
made?" 

"Not  yet.  First  let  us  go  on  as  far  as  the  grove, 
and  then  if  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen  we  will  give 
the  alarm.  There  is  something  I  do  not  understand 
as  yet,  but — I  am  afraid,  Rudrig." 

They  went  on  a  little  farther  in  silence,  and  then, 
just  before  they  reached  the  little  clump  of  trees 
toward  which  Conal  had  been  walking  when  Rudrig 
saw  him,  the  clansman  exclaimed  under  his  breath, 
and,  dropping  to  his  knee,  pointed  excitedly  to  a 
trampled  spot  among  the  weeds.  The  marks  meant 
nothing  to  Etain,  but  she  could  see  that  Rudrig 
drew  some  grave  meaning  from  them.  He  studied 
them  expertly,  rose  again,  took  a  look  about,  and 
began  to  walk  to  and  fro  with  quick  strides,  making 
short  casts  in  one  direction  after  another,  bending 
over  from  time  to  time,  and  muttering  to  himself. 

He  came  slowly  back  at  last  with  a  very  sorrow- 
ful face  and,  opening  his  hand,  displayed  a  thin, 
crumpled  bit  of  gold. 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  HAY-WAIN         267 

"Conal's,"  he  said  briefly,  and  shook  his  head. 

Etain  put  out  a  hand  vaguely  as  if  feeling  for  sup- 
port. The  world  about  her  receded  and  became 
formless,  and  Rudrig's  voice  seemed  to  come  to  her 
faintly,  as  if  from  a  great  distance.  She  made  a 
great  effort  and  took  hold  upon  herself,  and  after  a 
moment  the  faintness  passed.  Rudrig  was  explain- 
ing something  to  her,  pointing  at  the  ground  as  he 
spoke  and  frowning  as  if  puzzled. 

"So  that  is  how  it  was,"  he  was  saying.  "Here 
came  Conal;  here  the  other.  He  leaped;  Conal  fell. 
That  is  clear.  But  there  is  no  blood,  nor  any  marks 
where  a  body  was  dragged^—  They  carried  him ! 
He  still  lived!"  he  cried  triumphantly,  and  seized 
her  by  the  arm  to  hurry  her  into  the  grove,  not  stop- 
ping to  pick  a  path  in  his  haste,  but  crashing  through 
the  undergrowth  and  dodging  under  the  low  branches 
until  they  came  to  a  trampled  patch  of  turf  where 
horses  had  been  tethered  only  a  short  time  before. 

He  made  another  quick  and  intelligent  survey. 

"There  were  four  of  them,"  he  said  confidently, 
"and  one  a  woman.  One  was  the  Roman,  I  think, 
but  I  cannot  imagine  how  he  overcame  his  guard, 
or  who  the  woman  can  have  been." 

"It  was  Nessa,"  said  Etain  soberly.  "She" has  fled 
with  the  Roman.  I  see  it  now.  But  never  mind ! 
Which  way  did  they  go?  Can  you  tell  that?" 

"This  way,  toward  the  river,  and  it  will  be  easy 
to  track  them  for  they  have  not  tried  to  hide  their 
trail." 

"Make  haste,  then,  and  call  the  chariot-men,  and 


268         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

do  not  forget  a  horse  for  me.  I  will  wait  here  for 
you." 

Rudrig  ran  to  the  camp,  shouting  as  he  went,  and 
it  was  not  long  before  the  army  was  roused,  the 
horses  haltered,  and  the  men  mounted  and  armed. 
They  came  galloping  over  the  field  and  through  the 
trees,  and  halted  only  to  confirm  Rudrig's  reading 
of  the  footprints  in  the  earth.  By  the  tune  Etain 
had  scrambled  onto  the  horse  they  had  brought  for 
her  and  had  begged  a  light  spear  from  the  nearest 
warrior,  Rudrig  gave  the  word  and  they  threw 
themselves  into  the  pursuit. 

The  trail  lay  broad  and  plain  before  them,  over 
the  fields  to  the  highroad  and  straight  down  the 
valley  for  four  or  five  miles.  Here  there  were  new 
signs  to  decipher.  A  dozen  horsemen,  coming  down 
from  the  hills,  had  joined  the  first  party  and  gone 
on  with  them.  Romans  these,  the  warriors  said 
positively.  They  took  up  the  pursuit  again  and 
raced  on,  mile  after  mile,  while  the  tracks  showed 
ever  fresher  and  clearer.  The  warriors'  faces  showed 
their  satisfaction  and  Etain  did  not  need  Rudrig's 
occasional  word  of  encouragement  to  know  that  they 
were  steadily  gaining  on  then-  quarry.  The  sun 
climbed  higher  and  the  morning  wore  along  and  they 
were  becoming  every  moment  more  confident  that 
the  next  turn  of  the  road  would  bring  them  in  sight 
of  those  they  were  pursuing,  when  they  came  to  a 
bypath  leading  out  of  the  highroad  toward  the  river 
and  saw  that  the  trail  forsook  the  road  for  it.  They 
turned  into  it  accordingly  and  followed  it  until 


THE   MAX  WITH  THE  HAY-WAIN         269 

they  reined  their  horses  on  the  river  bank.  Path 
and  hoof-prints  led  to  the  very  verge  of  the  stream 
and  vanished;  the  river  was  wide  and  turbid;  there 
was  no  sign  of  any  ford. 

They  stared  at  a  loss  for  an  instant,  then  Rudrig 
gave  a  gfunt  of  disgust  and  pointed  across  the  water, 
where  he  saw  a  barge  drawn  partly  up  on  the  shore 
and  a  curl  of  smoke  from  some  house  set  back  among 
the  trees. 

"A  ferry.  Of  course.  Hi!  Ferryman!  Hi!  A 
boat!  A  boat!" 

They  all  shouted  and  hallooed,  and  presently  a 
sturdy  fellow  in  a  short-sleeved  tunic  came  down  to 
the  shore  and  looked  over  at  them,  but,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  being  safely  out  of  arrow  shot, 
bawled  back  some  defiant  abuse  at  them  and  soon 
went  back  the  way  he  had  come. 

"May  the  Bocanochs  put  then-  blight  on  him 
and  the  witches  of  the  valley  grind  his  bones!" 
said  Rudrig  devoutly.  "But  there  must  be  another 
fern*  or  ford,  perhaps  a  bridge  such  as  we  saw  up- 
stream. If  needs  must,  we  will  swim  for  it.  It 
will  take  more  than  a  river  to  keep  me  from  Conal's 
side." 

Certainly  they  were  gaining  nothing  by  standing 
there,  so  they  turned  about  and  went  back  up  the 
path  again.  \Vhen  they  had  almost  come  to  the 
highroad  they  heard  a  rhythmical  shuffling  and  a 
noise  like  the  creaking  of  a  noble's  chariot  wheels, 
and  a  moment  later  they  came  plump  upon  an  enor- 
mous wain  of  hav  which  filled  the  whole  byway  from 


270         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

tree  trunk  to  tree  trunk,  and  was  piled  as  high  as 
a  mountain.  The  driver  was  perched  on  the  very 
peak,  where  he  could  prod  the  oxen  conveniently 
with  a  long-handled  goad,  and  when  he  saw  the 
warriors  he  slid  nimbly  down  from  the  hay  and  be- 
gan to  bow  rapidly  from  the  waist  to  the  ground, 
pouring  out  a  stream  of  salutations  hi  the  best  of 
Gaelic. 

"That  you  may  be  famed  and  fortunate,  gallant 
champions!  Health  and  success  to  you  and  a 
happy  return  to  Eirinn.  I  count  myself  lucky  to 
have  met  with  you,  for  I  had  no  idea  that  you  were 
hereabouts." 

Rudrig  pulled  his  horse  close  up  to  the  man  and 
looked  him  in  the  face. 

"What  is  this?"  he  cried  in  astonishment.  "You 
are  never  one  of  ours,  in  that  dress  and  this  employ- 
ment. How  came  you  by  that  Scottish?" 

"Honestly,  champion,  honestly.  I  learned  it 
where  you  did,  in  the  Weird  Island.  Fifteen  years 
and  more  I  served  there,  and  I  came  away  too  lately 
to  have  forgotten  my  lessons." 

"You  are  a  runaway,  then?  An  escaped  slave? 
Is  that  it?" 

"I  was  a  captive  but  no  runaway.  My  master 
gave  me  my  freedom.  And  why  ?  Because  he  had 
business  to  be  done  in  Gaul,  and  knew  that  I  was  to 
be  trusted.  'Seek  out  Dathi's  army,  wherever  it  is 
to  be  found,'  said  he.  'Trust  me/  said  I,  and  so 
here  you  see  me." 

"Come!"  said  Rudrig  sharply,  "if  all  that  be 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  HAY-WAIN        271 

true  and  it  is  Dathi's  army  you  would  be  seeking, 
what  are  you  doing  here  with  this  load  of  hay?" 

The  Gaul  was  much  disconcerted. 

"The  hay,"  he  repeated  stupidly.  "Ha,  true,  the 
hay!"  Jhen  his  face  brightened.  "A  disguise, 
that  is  all.  Who  would  believe,  seeing  me  peace- 
fully driving  my  hay-wain,  that  I  was  a  messenger 
from  Eirinn  on  a  secret  and  delicate  mission  to 
Dathi's  host?" 

"Not  I,  at  any  rate,"  answered  Rudrig  shortly. 
"  Is  that  why  you  are  driving  away  from  us,  to  make 
it  still  more  difficult  to  guess  that  it  is  we  you  are 
seeking?" 

"I  see  that  you  doubt  me,"  said  the  Gaul  un- 
easily. "But  every  word  I  have  told  you  is  the 
truth.  Take  me  to  the  camp  with  you  and  you  will 
see." 

"What  is  this  mission,  then?  Quickly.  We  have 
no  time  to  waste." 

The  Gaul  hesitated,  but  seeing  that  one  of  the 
other  warriors  had  whipped  a  halter  over  the  near- 
est bough  and  was  waiting  impatiently  with  the  end 
hi  his  hand,  answered  at  last,  though  reluctantly: 

"I  do  not  know  if  I  should  tell  you,  for  it  is  for 
the  ear  of  one  of  Dathi's  fighting  men,  and  for  him 
only,  but—  Are  there  any  Leinstermen  among 
you?  Let  me  whisper,  then.  Do  you  know  one 
Conal ?" 

Instantly  Rudrig  jumped  down  from  his  horse 
and  gripped  the  Gaul's  throat  so  that  his  thumbs 
were  buried  in  it  to  the  knuckles. 


272          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

"What  do  you  know  of  Conal?  Speak,  before  I 
throttle  you." 

He  had  almost  strangled  him  in  fact  before  one 
of  the  other  warriors  caught  his  arm  and  dragged 
him  back. 

During  all  this  the  others  had  been  coming  up, 
Etain  among  them.  The  Gaul,  gasping  and  chok- 
ing and  rubbing  his  congested  eyes,  saw  her  and, 
struggling  up  to  her,  threw  himself  at  her  horse's 
feet. 

"Mercy,  lady !"  he  cried.  "Spare  your  old  play- 
mate. I  will  tell  all.  Only  save  me  from  this  ter- 
rible fellow." 

"Lift  him  up  where  I  can  see  him,"  cried  Etain 
in  great  astonishment. 

The  Gaul  scrambled  briskly  to  his  feet. 

"Tell  them  who  I  am,  lady.  Tell  them  I  am 
a  friend,  and  faithful.  Do  not  let  them  murder 
me." 

"It  is  true,"  said  Etain.  "He  is  Curigh,  my 
father's  steward,  a  harmless  man.  I  can  answer 
for  him.  But  what  are  you  doing  here,  Curigh? 
Have  you  run  away  from  my  father  after  all  his 
kindness  to  you?" 

"No,  no,  lady !    I  am  here  on  his  business." 

"His  business?  What  business  would  he  have  in 
Gaul,  unless  he  has  sent  you  to  me?" 

"Let  me  question  him,"  begged  Rudrig.  "He 
seems  innocent  to  you,  for  you  are  not  used  to  de- 
ceit and  villainy,  but  I  can  smell  a  liar  at  a  mile, 
and  upon  my  honor  I  believe  him  to  be  the  great- 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  HAY-WAIN        273 

est  knave  within  the  Four  Seas.  He  used  ConaPs 
name  just  now  and  what  would  he  know  of  Conal 
unless  he  has  had  a  hand  in  his  betrayal?  Leave 
him  to  me  and  I  will  get  that  out  of  him  that  may 
save  our  leader  yet." 

The  Gaul  set  up  a  cry  of  protest. 

"I  am  innocent.  I  will  tell  you  everything.  I 
know  nothing  of  Conal  except  that  Mesgedra,  hon- 
orable man  that  he  is,  trusted  me  with  a  message 
to  him.  It  was  a  caution,  a  warning  of  danger 
to  him,  and  Mesgedra  was  much  concerned  over  it, 
and  made  me  swear  to  carry  it  to  him.  And  that 
is  all  I  know  of  it,  and  I  swear  to  you  that  I  have 
never  seen  Conal  in  my  life  or  as  much  as  heard 
his  name  except  that  one  time." 

"And  why  did  you  not  carry  the  message  then?" 

"I  met  Romans,  legionaries,  hundreds  of  them, 
and  there  were  more  following.  Was  I  a  bird  to 
fly  over  them  or  a  mole  to  crawl  under?  I  had  to 
give  it  up  and  wait  for  a  better  time." 

"You  have  done  very  wrong,"  said  Etain  severely. 
"You  should  never  have  begun  it  except  to  carry 
it  through.  It  is  too  late  for  warnings  now.  Dis- 
aster has  come  upon  him.  He  has  been  taken  by 
the  Romans." 

"But  it  was  not  against  Romans  that  I  was  to 
warn  him,  but  against  Leinstermen." 

"It  is  all  the  same.  What  would  have  saved  him 
from  one  would  have  saved  him  from  the  other. 
To  think  that  you  could  have  served  us  so — Mes- 
gedra who  was  always  so  good  to  you,  and  me 


274         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

whom  you  petted  as  a  child  and  declared  you  loved 
as  your  own  daughter." 

Curigh  looked  at  the  ground  in  genuine  shame. 

"But  it  was  only  for  the  time,"  he  protested 
feebly.  "I  stayed  here  waiting  for  the  chance  to 
see  him." 

"And  while  you  waited  his  enemies  were  acting. 
And  after  you  had  sworn,  too.  Fie !  Never  speak 
to  me  of  fidelity." 

The  Gaul  writhed  in  penitence  and  despair. 

"Had  I  known  what  I  know  now  I  would  never 
have  waited.  But  do  not  despise  me.  Only  give 
me  another  chance  to  serve  you.  If  he  is  taken 
and  not  slain  there  may  still  be  something  to  be 
done." 

"There  is,  and  we  will  do  it,"  said  Rudrig  gruffly. 
"We  took  that  city  once,  and  we  can  take  it  again." 

"Do  not  attempt  it.  It  would  be  useless  and 
worse.  Do  you  not  see  that  they  would  put  him 
to  death  at  the  first  alarm?  There  are  better  ways 
than  that,  if  you  are  sure  he  was  taken  to  the  town." 

"We  followed  their  tracks  to  the  ferry  below  and 
one  can  see  that  the  road  leads  straight  to  the 
gates." 

"This  is  my  plan,  then.  I  come  and  go  freely 
there,  bringing  grain  and  hay,  and  I  am  known  as 
an  innocent  trader.  I  have  a  brother  there  who  is 
employed  about  the  prisons.  He  has  a  liking  for 
the  Scots,  is  grateful  for  a  service  one  of  them  did 
him.  If  Conal  is  kept  there,  he  will  know  of  it, 
and  between  us  we  will  find  a  way  of  freeing  him. 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  HAY-WAIN        275 

At  any  rate,  I  will  stop  at  nothing  to  free  him  if  I 
can." 

While  he  was  speaking  the  Gaul  recovered  his 
self-possession  and  ended  with  such  evident  deter- 
mination and  good-will  that  they  all  perforce  felt 
his  sincerity. 

"Do  you  think  we  dare  depend  on  him  after 
what  has  passed?"  whispered  Etain. 

"He  speaks  as  if  he  were  in  earnest,"  Rudrig 
answered  doubtfully,  "and  there  was  good  sense  in 
what  he  said  about  their  killing  Conal  if  we  at- 
tacked them.  If  only  one  of  us  could  go  with  him 
to  see  that  he  does  not  betray  us." 

The  Gaul  overheard  him. 

"That  is  impossible,"  he  said  firmly.  "You 
must  leave  it  to  me.  I  will  not  fail  you  again." 

"I  believe  we  can  trust  you,"  said  Etain  very 
earnestly,  "for  I  am  convinced  that  you  would  not 
have  failed  us  before  had  you  known  what  it  meant 
to — Mesgedra." 

He  kissed  her  hand  with  a  flourish. 

"I  will  do  what  man  can,"  he  promised.  "And 
now  it  will  be  best  for  you  to  go  back.  There  are 
many  soldiers  hereabout  and  it  will  gain  you  nothing 
if  they  should  ambush  you,  and  to-morrow,  if  you 
were  to  break  camp  and  move  on  down-stream,  as 
if  you  had  given  up  hope  of  saving  Conal,  so  much 
the  better.  I  will  wait  here  for  an  hour  or  two  so 
that  the  ferryman  will  not  suspect  that  I  have 
met  you." 

By  this  tune,  what  with  having  escaped  Rudrig's 


276         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

anger  and  with  being  considered  worthy  of  fresh 
trust,  he  had  become  quite  sprightly  and  self- 
confident  again.  He  bade  them  an  elaborate  fare- 
well, repeated  his  assurances  of  loyalty  again  and 
again,  and  stood  waving  after  them  until  they  were 
nearly  out  of  sight. 


CHAPTER  XXV 
THE  GRATEFUL  GAUL 

Conal  awoke  suddenly  to  full  consciousness — 
consciousness  of  unbearable  pain.  He  lay,  bound 
like  a  sack,  across  the  back  of  a  horse,  his  head 
hanging  low  on  one  side  so  that  his  pulse  boomed 
in  his  ears,  and  his  skull  ached  almost  to  splitting. 
The  tight  thongs  bit  deep  into  his  flesh;  their  rub- 
bing had  opened  a  newly  healed  wound,  and  the 
sleeve  of  his  shirt  was  soggy  with  wasted  blood. 

He  was  passing  under  the  tunnelled  arch  of  a 
great  gateway.  It  was  so  dark  that  he  could  see 
nothing,  but  close  about  him  he  could  hear  the 
breathing  of  many  horses,  the  faint  rustle  and  clank 
of  harness  and  armor,  and  the  soft  sound  of  hoofs 
on  damp  earth. 

Immediately  he  fainted  again  from  weakness  and 
agony,  but  light  on  his  face  as  he  came  out  into 
the  sun  and  the  freshness  of  the  air  revived  him. 
Looking  about  him  as  well  as  his  bonds  permitted, 
he  recognized  the  street  before  him,  the  houses,  the 
severe  front  of  the  basilica  across  the  square  farther 
along. 

When  he  had  entered  that  gate  before  and  passed 
between  the  tall  houses  that  rose  again  on  either 
hand,  the  air  had  been  full  of  the  shrieks  of  terri- 

277 


278         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

fied  women  in  the  presence  of  death,  and  the  howls 
of  the  triumphant  Scots,  made  savage  by  the  sight 
of  much  blood.  Now  again  wild  cries  rang  in  his 
ears,  but  they  were  the  frenzied  cries  of  a  mob  of 
Gauls  who  pressed  close  about  the  horse,  exulting 
in  his  misery,  clamoring  for  his  life. 

By  turning  his  head  an  inch  in  one  direction  he 
could  see  the  soldiers  who  rode  behind  him,  pushing 
the  mob  back  with  their  knees  and  exchanging 
rough  banter  with  them.  An  inch  the  other  way 
and  he  could  see  the  count  reclining  comfortably 
in  a  litter,  ignoring  the  throng  as  completely  as  if 
it  had  been  so  many  buzzing  flies.  Just  behind  the 
litter  were  two  men  in  the  costume  of  his  own  coun- 
try, walking  together.  He  felt  a  vague  curiosity 
about  them,  whether  they  were  captives  too,  and  if 
so  why  they  were  not  bound,  but  his  own  pain 
wrenched  his  mind  back  sharply  to  himself.  He 
faulted  again  and  woke  to  find  himself  lying  hud- 
dled on  a  cool,  marble  floor,  his  limbs  free. 

Soldiers  stood  about  stiffly.  At  a  little  distance 
the  count  was  stretched  on  a  soft  couch  with  food 
before  him  at  a  little  table.  The  two  Leinstermen 
stood  by  talking  together  in  whispers.  The  count 
fed  himself  voraciously,  gulping  wine  from  a  huge 
goblet  and  rapidly  selecting  tidbits  from  a  dozen  dif- 
ferent dishes  before  him.  He  was  absorbed  in  his 
meal,  and  paid  no  attention  to  the  others  present. 

One  of  the  Leinstermen  opened  his  mouth  as  if 
to  speak  to  him,  but  changed  his  mind  and  said 
nothing.  Conal  groaned. 


THE  GRATEFUL  GAUL  279 

The  Roman  raised  his  head  slightly  and  jerked 
it  as  if  beckoning.  At  once  two  of  the  soldiers 
seized  Conal  under  the  armpits  and  pulled  him  to 
his  feet.  The  Roman  looked  at  him  mildly,  nibbling 
the  while  at  the  bone  of  a  partridge. 

"So  here  we  are,"  he  said  finally,  blinking  his 
heavy  lids.  "I  am  on  top  again  and  you  are  the 
captive.  Well,  well !  We  must  all  be  philosophers, 
for  each  of  us  has  his  ups  and  downs." 

He  laughed  quietly  and,  putting  down  the  bone, 
drank  from  his  goblet. 

"What  a  comfort  to  be  among  civilized  men! 
You  did  the  best  you  could,  I  suppose,  but  your 
cookery  was  unmentionable.  Every  nation  has  its 
gifts,  they  say — the  table  is  certainly  not  yours." 

He  yawned  and  composed  himself  more  comforta- 
bly on  the  couch. 

"You  are  not  particularly  astute,  either — the 
better  for  me,  I  suppose.  At  least,  you  had  sense 
enough  to  treat  me  with  some  respect.  I  realize 
it,  and  it  will  make  your  own  lot  easier.  I  do  not 
even  intend  to  put  you  to  the  torture  for  the  present 
—at  least  not  until  I  see  how  your  fellow  country- 
men will  act  now  that  you  are  gone." 

He  turned  back  to  the  table,  selected  another  bit 
of  partridge,  and  rolled  a  sip  of  wine  appreciatively 
over  his  tongue. 

When  he  had  swallowed  it  he  sucked  his  fingers 
and  looked  around  him  reflectively. 

"Where  is  the  lady  who  came  with  me?"  he  de- 
manded. "Tell  her  I  am  awaiting  her." 


280         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

One  of  the  guards  slipped  through  the  curtains  at 
the  back  of  the  room,  and  next  moment  who  but 
Nessa  came  trailing  in?  She  swept  a  superbly  in- 
different look  over  Conal  and  the  Leinstermen  and 
dropped  into  a  seat  at  the  count's  side. 

"Excellent  partridge,  my  heart,"  muttered  he, 
having  stuffed  his  mouth  full  again  in  the  mean- 
time. Then  he  turned  his  attention  to  Conal  again. 

"Well,  rest  you  easy  for  a  time.  Here!  Take 
him  away  quickly.  There  is  nothing  more  injuri- 
ous to  marble  than  to  have  blood  drip  all  over  it." 

"And  these  others?"  asked  a  soldier. 

"What  would  you  say,  my  love?" 

"Strangle  them,"  said  Nessa,  snapping  her  teeth 
like  the  closing  of  a  pearl-shell. 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  best,"  returned  the  count 
languidly.  "Yet  I  promised  them  their  safety. 
Let  it  go  for  the  present.  Shut  them  up  somewhere." 

The  soldiers  swung  Conal  about  and,  half  carry- 
ing him,  took  him  out  through  a  door  at  the  side 
of  the  room.  As  it  closed  after  them  he  heard  the 
noise  of  a  scuffle,  the  voice  of  one  of  the  Leinster- 
men calling  on  the  count  to  remember  his  promises, 
and  the  other  gasping  and  cursing  as  the  guards 
dragged  them  away. 

Limping,  staggering,  stumbling,  Conal  shambled 
through  immeasurable  corridors,  down  circling  stair- 
cases that  might  have  led  to  the  bowels  of  the  earth, 
through  door  after  door  that  clanged  behind  him 
with  hopeless  finality.  To  one  who  had  never 
slept  in  a  house  where  each  room  did  not  open 


THE  GRATEFUL  GAUL  281 

directly  into  the  open  air  there  was  an  oppression 
in  the  very  intricacy  of  the  maze. 

The  legionaries  handled  him  roughly  but  not 
cruelly.  They  were  neither  Gauls  nor  Romans, 
but  rough  Thracians,  not  polished  enough  to  be 
spiteful.  They  even  talked  to  him,  asking  him 
with  soldierly  curiosity  about  the  battle  at  the  ford 
and  the  strength  of  the  Scots,  but  Conal  could  not 
collect  himself  enough  to  follow  their  unfamiliar 
dialect  or  summon  ability  to  answer  them.  At 
last  they  stopped  before  a  door,  threw  back  a  heavy 
bar  and,  supporting  him  inside,  set  him  down  on 
a  bench.  One  of  the  soldiers  put  down  several 
vessels  beside  him. 

"Here  is  bread,  barbarian,"  he  said  gruffly,  "oil 
(if  you  take  my  advice  you  will  rub  it  on  your  wrists), 
water  for  drink,  lentils.  There  should  be  a  hide 
about  somewhere  to  sit  upon,  and  I  will  send  straw 
later  for  your  bed." 

The  door  slammed  after  them,  the  bolt  fell,  and 
Conal,  stretching  himself  out  on  the  bench,  closed 
his  eyes  for  a  moment  to  ease  his  aching  head. 
After  a  time  his  strength  began  to  return  to  him. 
He  raised  himself  and,  wincing,  washed  and  band- 
aged his  bleeding  cut,  and  chafed  the  bruises  on  his 
wrists  and  ankles. 

The  cell  was  large  and  irregular,  broken  by  pro- 
jecting piers  which  cut  it  into  alcoves.  It  was  lit 
by  several  long  slits  in  the  wall  high  up  over  his 
head,  which  apparently  opened  on  the  street  above 
.the  ground,  for  Conal  could  see  the  feet  of  passers-by 


282          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

and  the  hems  of  their  robes  brushing  the  bars,  be- 
sides hearing  the  talk  and  noise  from  without.  The 
walls  were  of  squared  stone,  the  door  of  boards, 
heavy  and  nail-studded. 

He  made  the  circuit  of  the  room  and,  returning 
to  his  bench,  sat  down  heavily  and  rested  his  chin 
in  his  hands.  An  awful  despondency  began  to  take 
possession  of  him;  the  terrible  thickness  of  the 
walls  seemed  to  bind  and  hinder  his  breathing;  the 
slow  fading  of  the  light  threatened  horrid  gloom  to 
come.  With  the  gradual  dying  of  the  noises  hi  the 
street  he  seemed  to  be  losing  his  last  hold  on  move- 
ment and  life.  Without  knowing  what  he  missed, 
he  felt  robbed  of  all  the  little  friendly  noises  (insep- 
arably woven  into  the  woodsman's  life),  which 
quicken  the  forests  and  fields  even  when  they  seem 
most  silent. 

When  at  length  a  hand  was  laid  suddenly  on  the 
door  and  the  bar  fell  abruptly  with  a  loud  clank,  he 
sprang  up  trembling. 

The  door  swung  open  and  a  man  entered  dragging 
a  bundle  of  straw  after  him.  He  closed  the  door 
quietly,  came  forward,  lantern  held  aloft,  and 
peered  into  Conal's  eyes.  At  the  same  time  the 
light  lit  up  his  own  face,  and  Conal  saw  something 
in  it  that  was  familiar,  although  he  could  not  re- 
member why  it  should  be  so. 

"I  thought  so.  It  is  the  same  man,"  muttered 
the  Gaul  in  an  aggrieved  tone.  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and,  putting  down  the  lantern,  began  to 
fumble  in  the  straw.  Conal  measured  him  with  his 


THE  GRATEFUL  GAUL  283 

eye  and  thought  for  a  moment  of  trying  to  over- 
power him  and  escape,  but  he  did  not  feel  equal  to 
a  struggle  and  had  little  hope  of  finding  his  way 
out  through  the  palace  without  being  recaptured, 
so  he  remained  quiet. 

The  Gaul  at  last  came  upon  a  flask  hidden  in  the 
straw.  When  he  had  found  it  he  shook  it  at  his 
ear,  sniffed  the  stopper,  and  picking  up  the  lantern 
again  took  another  long  look  at  Conal.  Appar- 
ently convinced  at  last,  he  shook  his  head,  groaned 
formidably,  and  held  out  the  flask,  motioning  for 
Conal  to  drink. 

Conal  snatched  the  flask  without  question  and 
poured  the  thick  and  pungent  liquor  down  his 
throat.  He  drank  steadily  without  taking  it  from 
his  lips,  while  the  Gaul  stood  by  shaking  his  head 
and  sighing  dolefully  and  mysteriously. 

When  Conal  could  drink  no  more  and  put  down 
the  flask,  feeling  hi  every  vein  the  warm,  revivifying 
strength  of  the  generous  liquor,  the  Gaul  began  to 
feel  about  in  the  straw  again.  He  pulled  out  a 
tightly  rolled  bundle,  Conal  staring  all  the  while, 
ran  to  the  door  and  listened  intently  and,  coming 
back,  groaned  more  depressingly  than  ever. 

During  all  this  tune,  since  the  jailer's  first  excla- 
mation, neither  of  them  had  spoken  a  word.  Fi- 
nally the  Gaul  exclaimed,  as  if  the  words  were  wrung 
from  him  against  his  will: 

"Why  were  you  such  a  fool  as  to  let  yourself  be 
taken?  Did  you  want  to  ruin  me  forever?  What 
the  devil !  When  I  think  of  what  Aetius  will  do  to 


284         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

me  the  marrow  curdles  in  my  spine.  But  what  do 
you  care?  That  is  the  way.  People  think  only  of 
themselves." 

Conal  thought  the  man  must  surely  be  mad. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked  wearily.  "Who 
are  you?  Surely  I  have  seen  you  before  some- 
where." 

"Oh  yes,  you  have  seen  me — I  wish  it  had  been 
only  the  once.  When  I  think  of  what  Aetius  will 
do  to  me — I  tell  you,  if  your  King  had  been  the 
sort  of  man  he  is  you  never  would  have  faced  him 
so  boldly." 

"Why,  it  is  the  fellow  on  the  steps — the  one 
who  protected  the  women!"  cried  Conal. 

"The  same,  and  well  for  you  that  it  is.  Pray 
heaven  no  man  ever  again  does  me  a  favor !  If  it 
had  been  any  one  but  you,  Martin  might  have  ro- 
manced forever  over  his  lovely  lady  before  I  would 
have  turned  a  hand  to  help  him.  But  what  the 
devil !  I  suppose  I  must  pay  my  debts  like  any  one 
else.  Waste  no  tune  talking.  Get  into  these." 

He  unrolled  a  loose  robe  like  his  own  from  the 
bundle,  hastily  pulled  it  over  Conal's  head,  and 
covered  his  hair  with  a  hood.  Then  he  divided 
the  straw  into  two  parts,  gave  one  to  Conal  to  drag 
and  stepped  out  into  the  hall.  The  Gaul  trem- 
bled so  that  he  could  hardly  walk,  and  his  face  was 
pasty  white  in  the  lantern-light,  but  he  led  on  steadily 
through  the  corridor.  They  passed  up  a  narrow 
stair,  through  a  vaulted  cellar  where  two  or  three 
soldiers  were  sharpening  their  swords,  and  into  a 


THE  GRATEFUL  GAUL  285 

kitchen  full  of  half-naked  slaves  running  to  and  fro 
between  an  enormous  fireplace,  where  broiling  meat 
was  sending  forth  an  immense  volume  of  smoke 
and  an  appetizing  sizzle,  and  a  table  where  an  im- 
pressive variety  of  joints,  fowls,  and  fish  were  laid 
out  ready  for  cooking. 

No  one  spoke  to  them  or  even  looked  at  them  as 
they  crossed  the  room,  dragging  their  bundles  after 
them,  to  a  door  on  the  opposite  side.  The  Gaul 
opened  it  and  they  passed  out  of  the  smoke  and 
smell  to  the  outer  air.  They  came  out  into  a  stable 
yard,  where  a  hay-wagon  was  standing,  with  its 
shafts  resting  on  the  ground. 

"Get  in  under  the  hay,"  the  Gaul  whispered. 
"Martin  will  come  before  long  to  take  you  away. 
The  rest  is  for  you  and  him  to  manage.  I  have  done 
all  I  can  for  you,  and  I  would  be  glad  if  my  soft 
heart  had  let  me  do  less.  But  what  the  devil !  I 
suppose  I  must  not  grudge  you  your  life  who  gave 
me  mine.  All  the  same  when  I  think  of  what  Aetius 
—Oh,  well,  what  does  it  matter  ?  Only  watch  your- 
self well,  for  if  they  catch  you  again  I  swear  by  the 
saints  that  you  may  rot  in  chains  forever  before  I 
take  any  more  risks  for  you." 

Conal  grasped  his  hand  in  gratitude  and  heard  his 
teeth  clicking  like  dice  shaken  in  the  box.  Then 
as  the  Gaul  hurried  off,  he  crawled  in  under  the  hay 
and  hid  himself  as  best  he  could. 

After  a  long  time  of  waiting  he  heard  the  shuffling 
step  of  oxen  and  a  man's  voice  speaking  to  them 
softly  as  he  backed  them  into  the  shafts  and  yoked 


286         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

them.  Presently  the  newcomer  mounted  on  the 
hay  and  took  up  the  pole,  and  the  cattle  started 
with  a  lurch  and  swung  the  wagon  out  of  the  yard. 
They  went  over  cobbled  streets  for  a  time,  taking 
many  turnings.  Once  or  twice  they  stopped  while 
the  driver  talked  to  people  whom  Conal  could  not 
see.  At  length  the  cobbles  ended  and  they  were 
moving  smoothly  over  a  well-paved  road.  Scarcely 
able  to  believe  that  he  was  on  the  way  to  freedom, 
entirely  ignorant  of  whither  he  was  bound,  Conal 
let  himself  sink  deep  into  the  hay  and  passed  off 
to  sleep. 

It  was  broad  daylight  when  he  was  wakened  by 
the  driver  prodding  him  with  his  foot  and,  popping 
his  head  up  out  of  the  hay,  he  found  the  man  grin- 
ning amicably  back  at  him  and  holding  out  to  him 
a  hunch  of  bread  and  meat  and  a  miniature  wine- 
skin. 

"You  have  slept  and  now  you  feel  better.  That 
is  good.  Well,  so  far  we  are  safe.  Grant  that  I 
may  be  able  to  finish  what  my  brother  has  so  well 
begun." 

"Both  your  brother,  if  such  he  was,  and  you  are 
risking  much  for  me,"  said  Conal  earnestly.  "He 
had  a  reason  of  a  sort,  but  you  have  none,  and  so 
I  am  the  more  grateful  to  you." 

"I  owe  you  something  myself,"  the  driver  an- 
swered with  a  laugh.  "You  would  never  have  been 
in  this  plight  if  I  had  warned  you  as  I  should  have 
done.  The  truth  is,  however,  that  I  am  not  doing 
this  for  your  sake,  but  for  those  who  take  an  interest 


THE  GRATEFUL  GAUL  287 

in  you,  the  lady  above  all,  for  I  am  her  devoted  ser- 
vant. If  you  wish  to  repay  me,  tell  her  that  Curigh 
was  faithful." 

Conal  did  not  question  that  the  lady  he  spoke  of 
was  the  Queen,  and  he  placed  the  man  mentally 
as  one  of  the  Gaulish  slaves  she  had  had  about  her 
in  the  camp. 

"Come,"  he  thought,  "this  is  not  so  bad  of  Nessa. 
At  least,  it  seems  she  tried  to  warn  me  and,  that 
failing,  sent  this  fellow  to  set  me  free. " 

"Your  name  is  Curigh,  then,"  he  said  aloud  to 
the  Gaul.  "Your  brother  said  something  about  a 
Martin." 

"Martin  or  Curigh.  Sometimes  I  am  called  one, 
sometimes  the  other;  Curigh  in  service,  Martin  in 
freedom.  It  is  all  the  same.  See  now,"  he  went 
on,  "I  do  not  dare  take  you  back  directly  to  your 
own  camp,  nor  toward  the  sea,  for  they  will  be  sure 
to  search  for  you  in  that  direction,  but  I  am  taking 
you  to  the  town  where  I  live  myself.  It  is  inland 
from  here  in  the  next  valley.  I  will  keep  you  hid- 
den there  for  a  tune,  and  later  I  will  think  how  I 
am  to  get  you  to  the  coast.  For  the  present  keep 
yourself  well  down  hi  the  hay,  particularly  when 
folk  are  passing.  It  will  not  be  long  before  we  are 
there." 

Conal  got  back  under  cover  and  spent  the  time 
dozing  and  gnawing  at  the  food  until,  as  it  was 
growing  dark,  the  wagon  stopped  and  Curigh  told 
him  softly  to  get  down.  He  caught  a  glimpse  of 
a  narrow  street  of  high  houses  before  he  was  hurried 


288         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

in  at  the  door,  through  a  dark  entry,  and  into  a 
damp  little  cupboard  of  a  room,  furnished  with  a 
single  chair,  a  table,  and  a  smoky  lamp. 

"Bide  here  for  a  time,"  the  Gaul  directed.  "If 
all  is  well,  I  will  be  back  soon  with  food.  We  had 
best  put  the  lamp  out — or  I  will  take  it  with  me. 
I  had  rather  that  the  neighbors  saw  nothing  sus- 
picious." 

He  left  Conal  alone  hi  the  darkness,  to  bite  his 
nails  and  reflect  that  his  present  quarters  were 
little  better  than  his  prison.  When  he  had  sat  for 
an  hour  or  more,  and  was  beginning  to  think  that 
he  could  bear  the  darkness  and  the  torment  of  his 
hard  seat  no  longer,  he  heard  hasty  steps  in  the 
entry,  and  Curigh  pulled  open  the  door  and  stood 
beckoning  to  him  in  great  excitement. 

"Quick!  Quick!"  he  insisted.  "You  must  be 
out  of  this.  They  have  guessed  or  suspected  that 
you  came  this  way  and  they  are  searching  the 
houses  down  the  street.  They  will  be  here  in  a 
moment.  Follow  me." 

He  grasped  Conal's  arm  and  pulled  him  through 
the  hall  again  and  out  of  the  house  by  another  door. 

They  came  out  into  a  little  sodded  court  full  of 
wet  clothes  spread  out  on  the  grass  to  dry.  The 
house  from  which  they  had  come  rose  on  two  sides, 
on  another  was  a  low  plastered  wall,  on  the  fourth 
side  a  higher  wall  of  bricks.  They  could  see  the 
buildings  opposite  over  it,  with  their  fronts  lit 
flickeringly  by  the  glare  of  torchlight,  and  hear  the 
confused  murmuring  of  a  mob  in  the  street. 


THE  GRATEFUL  GAUL  289 

"This  way,"  whispered  the  Gaul,  and  led  the  way 
around  an  angle  of  the  house  to  a  corner  where  no 
windows  opened. 

"This  is  the  wall  of  the  Bishop  Patricius's  garden. 
It  stretches  to  the  river  bank,  and  that  is  your  best 
road.  I  will  help  you  over  the  wall  and  then  you 
must  look  to  yourself  while  I  stay  here  and  face 
them." 

He  lent  his  back,  and  with  an  easy  spring  Conal 
gained  the  wall  and  let  himself  down  silently  into 
the  bishop's  garden. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
IN  THE  BISHOP'S  GARDEN 

It  was  more  like  a  park  than  a  garden.  Ancient 
poplars  and  larches  guarded  it,  scarcely  to  be 
spanned  by  four  men  touching  fingers.  Deer  moved 
softly  in  the  thickets,  and  a  hedgehog  crawled  grat- 
ingly at  his  very  feet. 

He  threw  up  his  head  and  breathed  deep.  Fet- 
ters fell  from  his  soul  and  he  forgot  pain  and  weari- 
ness. He  began  to  move  through  the  trees  silently 
but  swiftly,  avoiding,  as  if  by  instinct,  the  loose 
betraying  pebble  and  the  dead  twig  that  snaps  and 
reveals. 

The  rising  moon  lit  up  the  wood  with  brilliancy 
hardly  to  be  believed,  but  he  passed  from  shadow 
to  shadow  as  if  he  had  been  one  of  their  kind,  and 
it  would  have  taken  a  sharper  eye  than  was  to  be 
found  in  that  city  to  see  him  as  he  went. 

In  no  great  time  he  was  brought  to  a  halt  by  the 
enclosing  wall.  The  tops  of  houses  showing  over 
it  reminded  him  that  he  was  still  within  the  town; 
he  stopped  and  took  his  bearings  carefully,  and  when 
he  had  determined  which  way  the  river  lay,  he 
began  to  follow  the  wall  in  that  direction. 

290 


IN  THE  BISHOP'S  GARDEN  291 

As  he  walked  a  strange  feeling  of  satisfaction  and 
fulfilment  began  to  take  possession  of  him.  Surely 
this  sensation  of  recent  escape  from  deadly  peril  to 
the  cool  and  calm  of  the  wooded  garden  was  no  new 
one,  but  the  rehearsal  of  something  he  had  known 
before  or  the  realization  of  something  deferred  but 
long  expected.  He  felt  impatient  to  be  on,  to  see 
what  lay  beyond  the  next  group  of  trunks,  as  if 
some  pleasant  surprise  must  be  awaiting  him  there, 
as  if  he  were  hastening  to  keep  some  tryst  made 
long  since  and  long  postponed,  or  as  if  some  fan- 
tastic, half-forgotten  dream  were  at  the  very  verge 
of  coming  true. 

Now  and  again  he  could  see  lights  glimmering 
through  openings  in  the  trees,  and  he  walked  directly 
toward  them,  feeling  no  uneasiness  for  his  own  safety, 
but  quietly  assured  that  whatever  was  to  come  had 
no  menace  for  him.  At  last  he  parted  the  inter- 
twined branches  of  a  mass  of  shrubbery  which 
barred  his  path,  and  looked  between  them  to  where 
the  rear  of  a  large  building  rose  on  the  garden,  its 
low,  arched  windows  glowing  with  light.  The 
muffled  sound  of  the  deep-toned  chanting  of  many 
voices  came  intermittently  from  within,  alternating 
with  the  notes  of  a  single  voice  raised  in  quavering 
intonations. 

Conal  stood  quietly,  unaccountably  certain  that 
the  next  moment  would  bring  forth  something  to 
repay  his  patience.  With  a  final  resounding  ca- 
dence the  chanting  ended  and  was  followed  by  the 
restrained,  shuffling  noise  of  many  people  departing. 


292          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

The  lighted  windows  dimmed,  one  by  one.  Pres- 
ently a  door  opened  in  the  back  of  the  building 
and  an  ecclesiastic  came  out.  He  was  robed  in  a 
rich  chasuble,  which  passed  over  his  shoulders  and 
hung  down  before  and  behind,  the  high  mitre 
towered  over  his  forehead,  and  he  carried  a  mas- 
sive, gilded  crosier,  taller  than  himself.  After  he 
had  closed  the  door  behind  him,  he  put  aside 
his  staff  and  mitre,  and  began  to  pace  to  and  fro 
in  the  moonlight  where  Conal  could  see  him  very 
plainly. 

He  was  a  man  of  perhaps  fifty  years,  with  a  decent 
gray  beard  and  short,  curling  hair,  white  about  the 
temples.  He  had  an  air  of  peace  about  him,  the 
contemplative  serenity  of  one  who  had  felt  much 
of  the  hardships  of  the  world  and  known  some  of 
its  rewards,  but  to  whom  trials  and  honors  were 
equal.  Absorbed  in  calm  thought,  he  walked  with 
bowed  head,  his  hands  clasped  behind  him,  looking 
neither  to  right  nor  left. 

As  Conal  watched  him  and  noted  the  robe,  with 
the  hole  through  which  the  head  was  passed,  the 
crescent  of  the  tonsure  shining  over  his  temples, 
and  the  crooked  head  of  the  gilded  crosier,  suddenly 
there  came  to  him  the  memory  of  the  day,  long 
months  before,  when  he  had  stood  in  the  dawn  on 
the  green  of  Duffa  the  Ollave's  dun,  and  the  ancient 
sage  had  prophesied  strange  things  to  him.  Slowly 
the  druid's  words,  forgotten  for  so  long,  began  to 
piece  themselves  together  in  his  memory. 

"There  is  a  man  in  a  distant  city,  a  man  with  a 


IN  THE  BISHOP'S  GARDEN  293 

shaven  crown.  His  staff  is  crooked,  his  cloak  has 
a  hole  for  his  head.  Take  him  my  message." 

With  a  rush  the  conviction  came  to  him  that  here 
was  the  cue  to  all  his  wanderings  and  sufferings; 
for  this  had  he  been  buffeted  to  and  fro  across  Eirinn 
and  Gaul,  hounded  forward  and  headed  back,  turned 
hither  and  thither,  as  a  boy  with  a  broom-straw  foils 
and  vexes  a  busy,  hurrying  beetle;  for  this  had  his 
march  away  from  this  city  been  hampered  and  filled 
with  obstacles,  his  road  toward  it  made  plain;  for 
this  had  he  been  captured  and  freed  again,  that  he 
might  stand  to-night  in  this  man's  presence  and  do 
the  druid's  errand. 

"This  is  the  man!"  he  said  aloud,  and  stepped 
boldly  out  into  the  light. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  bishop  started  vio- 
lently from  his  meditation. 

"Who  calls  Patrick?"  he  exclaimed,  and  Conal 
could  hardly  believe  his  ears,  for  the  Gaul  had  un- 
consciously answered  him  in  the  tongue  in  which 
he  had  spoken,  in  his  own  language  and  even  in 
the  language  of  his  own  province,  the  curt,  precise 
Gaelic  of  Ulster.  As  he  spoke  he  turned  and  con- 
fronted Conal,  and  at  the  sight  of  the  falling  locks 
of  hair,  the  loose-sleeved  shirt,  and  the  kilted  tunic, 
his  face  assumed  a  look  of  wonder.  But  before  his 
tongue  framed  the  question  which  was  almost  on 
his  lips  Conal  forestalled  it. 

"Master,"  he  said,  "the  people  who  dwell  by  the 
wood  of  Focluth  bid  you  come  again  and  walk  with 
them." 


294         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

At  once  the  bishop's  expression  changed  to  incred- 
ulous delight  tinged  with  timid  humility.  Tears 
rolled  down  his  cheeks.  He  began  to  beat  his  breast 
violently,  and  falling  to  his  knees  cried  aloud,  his 
voice  trembling,  speaking  so  rapidly  that  the  words 
were  confused  and  hardly  intelligible. 

"My  shame!  My  shame,  to  have  forgotten 
them,  the  kindly,  brave  Scots,  who  dwell  in  death 
and  unbelief,  not  through  their  fault  but  mine. 
What  do  I  not  owe  them  for  the  years  of  slavery 
which  turned  me  from  levity  and  fixed  my  mind 
wholly  upon  God!  Surely  the  Lord  has  had  pity 
on  me  to  send  his  messenger  thus,  lest  my  neglect 
should  cost  me  dear." 

He  raised  his  head  again,  but  Conal  had  stepped 
back  into  the  bushes.  Patricius  looked  about  him 
attentively  and,  seeing  no  one,  raised  his  eyes  and 
prayed  silently;  then,  lifting  his  voice,  he  exclaimed 
in  a  firm  tone:  "Fear  not,  people  of  Focluth. 
Though  I  had  forgotten,  the  Lord  has  remembered, 
and  He  will  grant  it  to  you  according  to  your  earnest 
cry." 

He  took  up  his  staff  and  mitre  again  and  went 
quickly  back  into  the  building. 

Conal  knew  that,  his  end  accomplished,  nothing 
more  threatened  him.  He  went  on  through  the 
wood  without  fear  or  concealment,  and  came  out 
on  the  river  bank  where  a  path  ran  beside  it,  pro- 
tected by  a  light  railing.  A  small  boat  was  drawn 
up  on  the  shore,  and  he  stepped  into  it  and  pushed 
out  into  the  stream. 


IN  THE  BISHOP'S   GARDEN  295 

The  current  carried  him.  At  times  he  slept;  at 
times  watched  the  shore  slipping  steadily  past;  at 
times  turned  his  late  mysterious  chances  over  in 
his  mind  without  approaching  an  explanation  of 
them.  One  thing  he  felt  strongly,  that  he  had  this 
long  time  been  netted  about  by  spells  and  bedevil- 
ment,  and  that  his  new  sense  of  freedom  and  enlarge- 
ment meant  simply  that  the  toils  were  removed 
from  him.  Feeling  this,  he  began  to  wonder  whether 
he  had  not  been  blinded  and  befooled  in  more  than 
one  regard.  Etain — a  doubt  that  had  been  lurk- 
ing in  his  mind  was  awake  again — how  could  it  be 
that  she  whom  he  had  taken  to  be  so  candid,  true 
metal  if  such  were  ever  forged,  had  belied  his  faith 
in  her  so  utterly?  What  if  her  seeming  despite  of 
him  could  perhaps  have  been  only  seeming,  part  of 
the  same  deception,  managed  cleverly  by  the  same 
subtle  hand  that  had  laid  so  many  snares  for  him 
otherwise?  Once  the  idea  had  come  to  him,  he 
found  good  grounds  for  convicting  himself  of  rash- 
ness in  judging  her.  Old  memories  of  her  revived; 
he  let  himself  dwell  again  on  her  old-time  allure- 
ments. 

He  decided  finally  that  when  he  could  he  would 
give  her  the  chance  of  setting  herself  right  with 
him,  and  straightway  began  to  anticipate  that  she 
would  accept  it,  that  all  would  be  made  clear,  that 
she  would  prove  herself  true,  or  at  least  pardonable, 
that  they  would  forthwith  be  reconciled — beyond 
that  point  there  was  little  scope  for  rosy  dreaming. 
The  penalty  of  immeasurable  shame  bound  him  to 


296         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

return  to  Eirinn,  and  one  thing  at  least  was  sure: 
that  there  a  slow,  hard  death  awaited  him. 

He  cooled  wonderfully  at  that  thought,  but  kept 
his  purpose  firm  none  the  less,  concluding  that  there 
would  be  some  satisfaction  if  he  could  clear  the  mists 
a  little  first. 

Night  came  down  on  the  water  again,  but  the 
little  boat  held  its  course  true  in  midstream,  and  trie 
miles  flowed  away  behind  him  until  at  last  the  river 
swept  splendidly  around  a  bend,  and  the  cooking- 
fires  of  the  Scottish  camp  were  burning  on  the  bank 
before  him. 

He  beached  the  boat  and  was  climbing  the  bank 
when  he  saw  a  girl  walking  along  above  him.  There 
was  something  pensive  and  forlorn  about  her;  she 
seemed  very  small,  alone  against  the  dark  sky,  and 
she  shivered  a  little  when  the  wind  stirred  her  gown. 
She  was  walking  slowly  and  looking  about  her  as 
she  walked,  searching  the  mist,  questioning  every 
bush  and  tree.  A  few  steps  nearer  and  he  saw  that 
it  was  Etain. 

It  was  pleasant  for  Conal  to  see  her  there;  it 
seemed  as  if  she  must  be  there  to  welcome  him, 
and  he  hurried  to  overtake  her,  resolved  that  the 
time  to  speak  was  come.  She  turned  when  she 
heard  his  steps,  and  he  would  have  sworn,  if  the 
light  had  been  better,  that  there  was  a  relief  and 
good-will  in  her  face  which  was  unfeigned,  but  be- 
fore he  could  speak  to  her  she  was  away,  running 
lightly  between  the  smouldering  fires.  He  made  a 
step  after  her,  and  a  warrior  sprang  up  to  challenge 


IN  THE  BISHOP'S   GARDEN  297 

him.  The  next  moment  the  welcome  was  ringing 
from  hundreds  of  rough  throats:  "Conal!  Conal, 
our  sword  and  protection !  Conal  is  here !" 

That  day  and  the  next  they  travelled  in  the  for- 
est. It  ended  among  towering  sand-dunes,  over 
which  a  strong  breeze  came  to  them,  filling  their 
nostrils  with  clean,  salty  fragrance.  The  men  of 
the  foremost  ranks  pulled  themselves  up  the  caving, 
sandy  slopes.  Salt  marshes  extended  without  limit 
on  both  sides  of  them,  cut  into  tiny  islands  by 
countless  little  channels  through  which  the  tide  and 
the  river  strained  and  wrestled  for  supremacy.  The 
gray  plain  of  the  ocean  stretched  away  before  them 
from  their  feet,  touched  delicately  with  white  where 
the  horses  of  Mannanan,  Son  of  the  Sea,  rose  to  the 
surface,  tossed  their  bright  manes  and  sank  to  the 
depths  again.  A  few  miles  away  the  great  vessels 
of  the  war  fleet  appeared,  painted  sails  strained  to 
bursting,  standing  steadily  toward  them. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
A  MEETING  ON  THE  HIGHROAD 

Ferdiad  stopped  for  nothing,  travelling  by  night 
and  day,  fording  rivers  in  full  flood,  and  crossing 
mountain,  heath,  and  quagmire.  He  was  so  con- 
sumed with  rage  and  injured  vanity  that  he  pressed 
his  horses  unsparingly,  and  by  the  time  he  had 
come  to  the  marches  of  Meath  bordering  upon 
Ulster,  they  were  not  fit  for  further  effort,  and  he 
was  forced  to  leave  them  with  an  obliging  brugaid, 
and  borrow  hi  their  stead  a  shaggy,  and  by  no  means 
fleet,  pair  that  showed  signs  of  having  got  most  of 
their  training  at  the  plough. 

He  was  jogging  along  at  the  best  pace  he  could, 
still  some  miles  from  the  boundaries  of  the  northern 
province,  when  he  perceived  a  roomy  chariot  on 
the  road  before  him,  travelling  slowly  in  the  same 
direction.  The  charioteer  was  lounging  over  the 
high  front,  poking  lazily  at  the  round-barrelled  grays 
which  plodded  sedately  before  it.  In  the  other  seat 
a  rotund  man  basked  hi  the  warmth  of  the  day.  His 
bald  head  glistened  in  the  sunlight,  his  fat  fingers 
were  folded  comfortably  on  his  chest,  and  his  chin 
rose  and  fell  rhythmically  as  he  breathed.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  vest  and  kilt  of  saffron,  and  a  stout 

208 


A  MEETING  ON  THE  HIGHROAD         299 

poet's  staff  lying  across  his  knees  proclaimed  him  a 
member  of  one  of  the  learned  professions. 

"Here  is  some  bard  or  lawyer,"  thought  Ferdiad, 
"who  can  give  me  advice  in  my  difficulty  and  per- 
haps put  me  in  the  way  of  obtaining  my  rights  by 
force  of  law." 

He  pushed  his  horses  on  and,  coming  up  behind 
the  otKer  chariot,  began  calling  lustily: 

"Wait  for  me,  learned  man!  Wait  for  me!  I 
have  a  word  to  say  to  you. " 

The  stout  man  started  up  with  a  yawn  and  began 
rubbing  his  eyes  with  his  fat  knuckles. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  cried  peevishly.  "Do 
you  know  no  better  than  to  disturb  a  brehon  at  his 
meditations  with  your  ill-mannered  shouting?" 

"A  thousand  pardons,  noble  brehon,"  said  Fer- 
diad contritely,  "but  I  am  hi  a  plight  that  puzzles 
me  sorely,  and  my  desire  for  your  advice  was  such 
that  when  I  saw  you  before  me  I  could  not  forbear 
from  waking  you." 

"  Waking  me !  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  snapped  the 
brehon.  "No  such  thing.  I  was  absorbed  hi  my 
studies  of  the  law,  deep  problems  beyond  the  com- 
prehension of  such  untaught  minds  as  yours.  Wake 
me,  indeed !  Drive  on !"  and  he  prodded  his  char- 
ioteer with  his  staff  to  rouse  him. 

"Do  not  be  angry  with  me,"  Ferdiad  protested. 
"I  see  that  I  was  mistaken,  but  your  studies  must 
indeed  be  deep,  for  I  vow  that  I  never  before  saw 
a  learned  man's  meditations  have  so  much  the  look 
of  sound  slumber.  I  am  fortunate  in  meeting  a 


3oo         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

brehon  of  such  profundity,  and  I  beg  of  you,  if 
you  will,  to  put  aside  the  weighty  matters  you  were 
pondering  and  consider  my  case,  which  is  causing 
me  great  uneasiness." 

As  he  spoke  he  drove  up  beside  the  brehon's 
chariot  and  slipped  a  bronze  buckle  of  the  value 
of  three  ounces  of  gold  into  the  charioteer's  hand. 
The  brehon  looked  critically  at  the  sky  during  the 
transaction,  but  he  answered  very  affably : 

"My  knowledge  is  at  your  service,  for  it  is  a 
brehon's  duty  to  pour  out  the  treasures  of  his  mind 
freely  to  all,  and  to  consider  every  sort  of  question 
impartially,  for  what  says  the  verse  ? 

'  Doubt  not  that  a  worthy  brehon 
Gives  judgment  as  painstakingly 
Concerning  the  ownership  of  a  handful  of  flaxseed 
As  of  the  disposal  of  a  thousand  oxen/ 

and  I  am  ready  to  put  other  things  aside  and  listen 
to  you,  although  the  matter  I  had  in  mind  was  truly 
a  weighty  one,  no  less  than  the  question  of  what 
penalty  the  King  of  Leinster  must  pay  for  hunting 
Leasca  the  miller's  pet  calf  with  wolfhounds.  Now 
that  is  a  point  that  to-day  is  being  weighed  by  half 
the  brehons  in  the  land,  and  it  is  a  nice  question 
indeed,  as  you  can  see  when  I  have  explained  it 
to  you.  In  the  first  place,  Leasca  the  miller  held 
stock  of  the  King  of  Leinster  as  a  free  tenant.  His 
father  kept  the  mill  before  him,  his  mother  was  an 

enfranchised  Firbolg  woman  from  the  South ' 

"With  the  brehon's   pardon,"   interrupted   Fer- 


A  MEETING  ON  THE  HIGHROAD        301 

diad  politely,  "it  is  very  interesting,  but  I  am  not 
skilled  in  the  law,  and  as  the  case  seems  somewhat 
complicated,  perhaps  it  would  be  well  to  let  it  pass 
for  the  moment  while  I  go  on  to  explain  my  own 
difficulty." 

"I  can  make  it  as  clear  to  you  as  spring-water," 
persisted  the  brehon  with  enthusiasm.  "In  a  word, 
Leasca"  having  no  children,  and  one  of  the  King's 
cows  dying  and  leaving  a  calf,  the  miller  thought 
fit  to  take  it  into  his  house  as  a  pet,  not  consider- 
ing the  wise  old  verse  which  says " 

"I  am  sure  the  verse  is  worth  hearing,"  Ferdiad 
interrupted  again,  "but  the  day  grows  short  and 
I  have  far  to  travel.  Another  time  I  would  listen 
with  pleasure,  but  I  fear  that  I  must  press  on  now 
unless  you  have  leisure  to  hear  me." 

"Have  I  not  said  I  was  ready  to  hear  you?"  de- 
manded the  brehon  indignantly.  "  Speak.  I  listen." 

He  composed  himself  magisterially,  putting  the 
tips  of  his  short  fingers  together  and  pursing  his 
cheeks  importantly. 

"I  am  the  eldest  son  of  a  high  aire,"  began  Fer- 
diad, "and  of  the  chief  family  of  the  clan " 

"Hold,"  said  the  brehon.  "First  tell  me  your 
name,  for,  as  the  saying  goes,  no  man  grows  rich 
solving  riddles  for  strangers." 

"My  name  is  Ferdiad,  and  I  am  called  'The  Son 
of  the  Old  Champion'  for  the  sake  of  my  father's 
mighty  deeds." 

"And  I  am  Eoghan,  caUed  'The  Ready'  for  the 
sake  of  certain  exploits  of  my  own.  So  now  we 


302          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

know  one  another.  Go  on  with  your  tale,  gallant 
Ferdiad." 

"My  father  was  tanist  for  many  years,  but  a 
chance  blow  in  battle  blemished  him,  so  that  he 
was  forced  to  give  up  his  rank.  He  was  so  well 
beloved  by  the  clan  that  no  other  tanist  was  ever 
chosen  in  his  place,  though  the  chief  was  burdened 
with  age  and  no  longer  fit  to  lead  the  spears,  but 
I  was  always  looked  upon  as  the  natural  successor, 
and  have  so  counted  myself  this  long  time  past. 

"Three  years  ago,  after  long-continued  fighting, 
peace  was  made  between  my  province  and  the  men 
of  Connaught,  and  I  was  sent  to  Cruachan  as  a 
hostage.  A  week  ago  my  term  of  service  was  com- 
pleted, and  I  was  allowed  to  return  home,  and  now 
I  find  that  in  my  absence  the  old  chief  is  dead,  and 
that  the  High  King  has  set  a  raw  young  fellow  in 
my  place,  through  whom  he  hopes  to  rule  the  clan. 
That  is  my  story,  and  it  is  for  you  to  say  whether 
the  law  will  help  me  to  my  rights,  for  I  would  not 
resort  to  force  if  I  can  avoid  it." 

"That  is  a  serious  affair,"  said  the  brehon  in  ex- 
citement, "and  hi  truth  I  do  not  see  how  it  can  be 
settled  except  with  the  spear,  for  if  the  High  King 
has  forced  a  stranger  chief  upon  the  clan,  by  force 
must  he  be  met.  Do  not  doubt,  though,  that  you 
will  get  justice,  for  you  have  only  to  cry  your 
wrongs  aloud  and  every  free  clan  in  the  land  will 
take  up  your  quarrel  as  its  own.  It  is  an  unheard- 
of  thing  for  a  High  King  to  use  his  power  against 
freemen  in  such  a  way.  Call  your  tribesmen  to- 


A  MEETING  ON  THE  HIGHROAD         303 

gether  and  raise  the  war-cry,  and  the  whole  of 
Eirinn  will  rise  to  resist  such  tyranny." 

"It  was  not  by  force  but  by  guile  that  the 
King  made  him  chief,"  said  Ferdiad,  shaking  his 
head. 

"If  it  was  not  by  force,"  cried  the  brehon  in  sur- 
prise, "I  cannot  for  my  life  see  how  Dathi  could 
have  made  them  take  him  against  their  will." 

"Oh,  they  were  willing  enough,  I  suppose.  The 
best  of  us  have  enemies,  and  even  our  friends  are 
apt  to  sit  quietly  by  while  we  are  robbed  if  only 
their  own  rights  are  respected.  The  truth  of  it  is 
that  Dathi  sent  one  of  his  creatures  there  who  flat- 
tered them  and  deceived  them  until  they  were 
willing  to  give  away  my  birthright  to  please  him 
and  choose  any  one  he  put  forward." 

"But  how  did  he  prevail  on  them  to  accept  a 
stranger  for  their  chief?" 

"I  did  not  say  he  was  a  stranger.  He  was  one 
of  the  clan,  but  Dathi  must  have  gotten  control 
over  him  in  some  way." 

"At  least  he  was  not  of  the  kingly  family." 

"Of  course,  he  was.    He  is  my  own  brother." 

"In  the  name  of  Bel,  then,"  cried  the  brehon, 
"what  sort  of  wrong  have  they  done  you?  If  I  un- 
derstand my  ears  the  man  is  rightly  king-material, 
and  he  has  been  chosen  freely  by  the  clan.  Surely 
there  is  nothing  to  prevent  the  High  King  from 
giving  advice  if  any  one  will  listen  to  him.  Your 
brother  is  as  rightfully  King  as  I  am  brehon,  and  why 
you  think  they  should  have  chosen  you  instead  of 


304         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

him,  or  what  you  think  the  law  should  do  for  you 
are  things  I  cannot  understand." 

"You  are  a  fine  brehon!"  flashed  Ferdiad.  "If 
you  can  give  me  no  help,  a  curse  on  your  fat  head, 
and  I  will  find  some  one  who  will.  Am  I  to  sit 
quiet  while  outsiders  dole  out  the  high  places  of  the 
clan  to  whom  they  wish,  because  a  pompous  fool 
can  find  nothing  about  it  in  the  old  verses?" 

"Speak  more  respectfully,"  puffed  the  brehon, 
drawing  away  a  little  on  his  seat.  "Shall  every 
untaught  spearman  abuse  the  law  because  it  is  not 
to  be  wrested  to  his  purpose?  You  are  like  all 
ignorant  people.  You  despise  what  you  cannot 
understand.  As  the  King  of  Leinster  said,  hi  re- 
gard to  that  very  matter  of  which  I  was  speak- 
ing- 

"A  thirsty  plague  on  the  King  of  Leinster,  and 
may  the  Bocanochs  fly  off  with  him!"  cried  Fer- 
diad. "In  plain  words,  can  your  laws  help  me,  or 
must  I  depend  on  my  own  good  war-axe  ?  For,  what- 
ever you  may  say,  I  am  sure  of  one  thing — that  Dathi 
the  High  King  who  plotted  it,  and  Mesgedra  the 
brugaid  who  helped  in  it,  and  Conal  my  brother 
who  took  my  seat,  and  Cathbar  my  father  who  stood 
by  and  saw  it  done  have  cheated  me  of  what  was 
mine  by  right  and  must  answer  to  me  for  what 
they  did,  or  before  another  changed  moon  I  will 
make  sling-stones  of  the  brains  of  every  meddler 
who  had  hand  or  part  in  it." 

The  brehon  dealt  his  horses  such  a  prod  with  his 
poet's  staff  that  they  sprang  sidewise  violently, 


A  MEETING  ON  THE  HIGHROAD         305 

dragging  the  chariot  a  dozen  paces  away  to  the 
other  side  of  the  road.  With  the  same  motion  he 
thrust  his  charioteer  between  himself  and  Ferdiad. 
His  face  grew  as  pale  as  bleached  linen,  and  he 
swallowed  several  times  and  moistened  his  lips 
with  his  tongue  before  he  regained  enough  com- 
posure to  answer. 

"These  are  wild  words,"  he  said  at  last  in  a  some- 
what shaky  voice.  "You  should  not  give  way  to 
such  temper;  it  is  undignified  and  disconcerting. 
If  you  believe  that  your  brother  has  been  made 
chief  unfairly,  there  remains  a  suitable  recourse  for 
you:  to  have  him  deposed  and  yourself  elected  in- 
stead. As  for  your  threats,  I  have  no  sympathy 
with  them.  I  am  a  law-abiding  man — and  I  remem- 
ber that  I  have  an  important  matter  to  attend  to 
in  this  direction,  and  I  must  be  on  my  way.  My 
advice  to  you  is  to  go  softly.  There  is  nothing  to 
be  gamed  by  threats  and  blustering,  still  less  by 
violence  and  bloodshed." 

With  these  words  he  turned  his  horses  abruptly 
off  the  road  and  drove  away  across  the  fields,  leav- 
ing Ferdiad  looking  after  him  and  shaking  his  head 
in  bewilderment. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
LAEGAIRE  THE  HIGH  TANIST 

At  Mesgedra's  guest-house  the  sunny  house  of  the 
women  was  set  apart  from  the  cluster  of  buildings 
where  chance  travellers  were  housed.  It  was  a 
pretty  bower  of  white  wicker  and  painted  plaster, 
built  over  storerooms  below  so  that  it  overlooked 
the  low  roofs  about.  From  its  windows  one  could 
see  far  in  both  directions  along  the  great  road  lead- 
ing up  to  Tara,  as  well  as  along  the  lesser  road  from 
Inver  Colptha  eastward,  which  crossed  it  at  the 
very  door  of  the  bruden. 

Mesgedra  often  rested  there  for  an  hour  while 
the  maidens  of  the  house  were  busy  with  their  tasks, 
for  it  was  a  cheerful  and  comfortable  house,  a  pleas- 
ant place  for  work  or  recreation.  Indeed  work  and 
play  went  hand  in  hand  there,  and  study  as  well. 
No  parent  could  complain  that  his  daughters,  fos- 
tered under  Mesgedra's  roof,  were  not  schooled 
in  all  womanly  accomplishments.  Under  Finulla's 
keen  eye  they  learned  to  spin  wool  and  linen,  to 
dye  the  thread  and  to  weave  fabrics,  as  well  as  to 
cut  and  fashion  garments  both  for  men  and  women. 
While  their  hands  were  busy  their  brains  were  not 
idle.  No  famous  bard  came  to  the  guest-house 
who  was  not  brought  to  the  grianan  and  made  to 

306 


LAEGAIRE  THE  HIGH  TANIST  307 

pay  for  his  housing  with  a  song  or  two  for  the 
maidens;  no  ollave  but  paid  with  a  poem,  no  bre- 
hon  who  escaped  without  discoursing  on  the  law, 
no  shanachie  who  was  not  coaxed  into  laying  aside 
his  professional  mystery  and  disclosing  some  of  his 
share  of  knowledge,  whether  he  was  versed  in  gene- 
alogy or  history,  or  in  the  legends  and  traditions  of 
names -and  places. 

There  was  hardly  a  girl  of  fifteen  there  who  did 
not  speak  the  difficult  dialect  of  the  poets  as  well 
as  the  ollaves'  own  disciples,  and  it  was  pretty  to 
hear  one  of  them,  when  no  other  entertainment  of- 
fered, take  up  a  harp  like  a  bard  and,  plucking  at  it 
daintily  with  soft  but  active  fingers,  pipe  out  melt- 
ing verses  of  Diarmuid,  beloved  by  all  women,  or  of 
the  more  than  human  beauty  of  young  Angus,  the 
good  god,  the  son  of  the  Dagda,  or  perhaps,  her  eyes 
brimming  as  she  sang,  of  the  lamentable  fate  of  the 
sons  of  Usnach,  of  Concubar's  plots  and  treachery, 
of  Naisi  sitting  tranquilly  at  the  chess-board,  while 
Fergus's  sons  fought  for  their  father's  honor  against 
the  hosts  of  the  King. 

Mesgedra  was  lounging  one  day  in  his  great- 
chair,  with  a  wolfhound  at  his  knee  and  a  cup  of 
ale  conveniently  near.  Finulla  sat  opposite  him 
with  a  pile  of  colored  yarns  on  her  lap,  among  which 
her  hands  were  moving  briskly  as  ever,  bringing 
them  to  order.  The  maidens  had  withdrawn  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room,  where  their  continual  gay 
chatter  drowned  the  purring  of  their  spindles. 

"I  had  a  message  from  Laegaire  to-day,"  said 


308         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

Mesgedra  casually.  "He  is  on  the  way  here  to 
consult  me  on  some  question." 

Finulla  took  up  a  skein,  held  it  to  the  light  for  a 
moment,  and  set  it  down  on  its  pile  with  an  air  of 
decision. 

"That  is  good,"  she  said.  "We  will  have  some 
chess  games.  I  am  tired  of  the  game  we  play  here. 
You  always  beat  me,  and  that  is  not  pleasant,  and 
the  girls  do  not  play  fairly." 

"He  will  hardly  have  time  for  chess.  He  comes 
on  business  and  not  to  amuse  himself .  Most  likely 
he  will  be  closeted  with  me  for  an  hour  and  then  be 
off  again  without  coming  near  the  grianan." 

"Laegaire  will  not  do  that.  He  likes  well  enough 
to  hang  about  the  bruden  for  a  day  or  two,  and 
besides  it  would  not  be  respectful  to  treat  his  foster- 
father  so." 

"That  is  nothing.  True  enough  his  father  sent 
him  to  us  for  a  year  as  a  compliment,  but  there  are 
hah"  a  dozen  who  had  as  much  part  hi  his  training 
as  I.  Anyhow,  forms  must  give  way  to  necessity. 
The  High  Tanist  ruling  in  the  High  King's  place 
has  many  demands  upon  him.  His  tune  is  not  his 
own,  and  he  will  not  trouble  himself  with  strict  ob- 
servance of  ceremony.  It  is  honor  enough  that  he 
comes  to  consult  me  on  matters  of  state." 

"Honor,"  cried  Finulla  vigorously.  "If  Lae- 
gaire thinks  that  he  honors  you  by  running  to  you 
for  advice  in  his  difficulties,  I  will  soon  rid  him  of 
the  notion.  There  is  more  profit  to  him  than  honor 
to  you  in  such  a  visit,  and  so  I  shall  tell  him." 


LAEGAIRE  THE  HIGH  TANIST  309 

"Surely  it  is  an  honor  for  the  High  Tanist  to 
take  counsel  with  me. " 

"Laegaire  has  come  to  you  with  his  troubles  be- 
fore this  without  making  any  such  parade." 

"Those  were  trivial  matters,  the  ordinary  plights 
of  young  men.  Now  he  comes  as  a  King  on  business 
of  state." 

"He. is  not  the  first  King  who  has  come  for  that 
matter.  Did  not  Niall  keep  you  at  his  side  always 
for  the  sake  of  your  advice?  And  though  Dathi 
has  been  less  intimate,  I  have  seen  him  come 
to  you  a  thousand  times,  with  his  forehead  knit 
into  wrinkles  with  perplexity,  and  go  away  with 
them  all  smoothed  out  for  him.  An  honor  for 
him  to  consult  you !  To  whom  else  would  he 
go?" 

Mesgedra  laughed  and  patted  the  dog's  head. 

"True  enough,  I  suppose  he  might  have  worse 
advisers.  But  see,  Laegaire  is  as  good  as  King,  and 
it  is  time  we  stopped  thinking  of  him  as  a  head- 
long boy  and  began  to  pretend  that  he  is  very 
sage  and  majestic,  for  Kings  thrive  on  the  respect 
of  those  they  rule,  and  it  is  surprising  how  soon  you 
will  come  to  really  look  up  to  him,  if  only  you  make 
up  your  mind  in  the  beginning  that  he  is  to  be 
looked  up  to." 

Finulla  looked  at  him  as  if  she  were  dubious 
whether  he  was  in  earnest. 

"All  the  same,  King  or  no  King,  let  him  not  be 
pompous  to  me,"  she  persisted. 

"He  will,  no  doubt,  be  very  respectful,  but  you 


3io         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

must  not  expect  him  to  be  familiar  or  to  spend 
time  at  the  chess-board  with  you." 

"He  will  play  chess  with  me  if  I  ask  him,"  said 
Finulla  positively,  and  she  went  back  to  her  work 
for  a  time. 

"It  would  be  pleasanter  for  him  if  Etain  were 
here,"  said  Mesgedra  after  a  little. 

"Pleasanter  for  us  all,"  answered  Finulla,  more 
thoughtfully  than  was  usual  with  her.  "I  have 
never  stopped  regretting  that  we  ever  sent  her  away, 
though  it  would  have  been  a  great  pity  for  her  not 
to  have  had  her  tune  at  court,  like  other  girls. 
It  is  the  one  school  of  polite  behavior.  I  have  al- 
ways said  that  one  could  pick  out  the  ladies  who 
had  served  the  Queen  at  Tara  among  a  thousand 
from  lesser  courts.  They  have  so  much  more  ease 
of  manner." 

"The  girls  of  to-day  have  free  enough  manners 
as  it  is,  to  my  way  of  thinking,"  said  Mesgedra 
dryly. 

"Ah,  that  is  true.  The  times  have  changed  since 
we  were  young,  and  the  court  to-day,  no  doubt, 
is  quite  a  different  place  from  what  it  was  in  Niall's 
early  reign,  not  to  speak  of  when  Criffen  was  King. 
I  doubt  we  were  foolish  to  trust  our  girl  there,  but 
who  would  have  thought  that  Nessa,  flighty  as  she 
is,  would  have  had  this  last  freak  of  going  to  war 
like  a  Queen  hi  a  tale." 

"I  dare  swear  Etain  did  not  hang  back  at  the 
idea.  But  she  will  come  to  no  harm.  She  has  a 
head  of  her  own  on  her  shoulders." 


LAEGAIRE  THE  HIGH  TANIST  311 

"She  is  a  good  girl  or  our  pains  have  been  for 
nothing.  All  the  same,  I  would  be  better  pleased 
if  Conal  had  taken  another  direction.  There  is 
nothing  so  attractive  to  a  girl  as  a  wooer  who  is 
under  a  cloud,  and  if  they  meet,  as  meet  they  will, 
he  will  court  her  under  the  Queen's  nose,  and  she 
will  come  home  head  over  heels  hi  love  with  him." 

"I  had  some  thought  of  that  before  he  got  into 
this  plight,"  Mesgedra  admitted,  "and  though  I 
am  in  no  haste  to  lose  her,  I  thought  it  might  as 
well  be  Conal  as  another.  Now  I  confess  that  as 
things  are,  I  am  not  anxious  for  the  match.  How- 
ever, if  he  escapes  the  traps  Firbis  has  laid,  and 
comes  safely  home,  I  believe  I  have  done  something 
toward  smoothing  his  way  for  him,  and  she  may  yet 
be  his  Queen  when  he  is  King  of  Tuath  Fiacra." 

"All  that  is  uncertain,  while  it  is  as  sure  as  fate 
that  young  people  have  a  bent  toward  love-making, 
and,  thrown  together  in  such  a  way,  it  will  not  be 
long  before  they  will  be  warming  to  one  another, 
the  more  so  that  they  were  attracted  from  the  first." 

"Oh,  come,"  cried  Mesgedra,  "Etain  liked  him 
well  enough,  as  any  girl  might,  but  she  never  was  so 
utterly  taken  with  him." 

"She  fancied  him  more  than  you  think,"  said 
Finulla  in  her  superior  wisdom,  "and  if  you  value 
your  daughter's  happiness  you  must  see  to  Conal's 
safety." 

"I  have  done  what  I  could.  Can  I  make  him 
High  King?"  Mesgedra  grumbled. 

"Very  well.    But  he   will   come  back   and  be 


312         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

prodded  to  death  with  spear-butts,  and  Etain  will 
mourn  him  her  life  long." 

"That  is  his  fault,  not  mine,"  said  Mesgedra 
sulkily,  but  he  was  evidently  filled  with  uneasiness 
and  pondered  moodily  while  Finulla  worked  over 
her  wools  with  her  nose  in  the  air,  visibly  displeased 
with  him.  After  a  little  she  looked  up  with  a  start. 

"Why  are  you  sitting  here?  There  are  many 
things  to  be  looked  to  if  you  wish  to  keep  the  blush 
from  your  face  when  Laegaire  comes," 

Mesgedra  stretched  his  arms  lazily. 

"My  face  will  do  well  enough.  There  are  enough 
calves  in  the  larder  to  feed  him  if  he  came  on  a 
royal  progress  with  a  thousand  men  in  his  train." 

"That  is  no  proper  spirit  for  a  brugaid.  You 
have  no  pride  in  your  office.  You  should  feel  dis- 
graced if  the  least  thing  were  lacking,  down  to  a 
spray  of  cresses,  instead  of  leaving  it  all  to  under- 
lings as  lazy  as  yourself." 

"I  do  not  take  my  office  as  seriously  as  that. 
However,  it  may  be  well  to  make  the  rounds  and 
see  what  those  rascals  of  mine  are  doing." 

"I  shall  go,  too;  you  need  watching  yourself  as 
much  as  they." 

They  went  through  kitchen  and  buttery,  dairy 
and  hafl,  where  busy  slaves  were  bustling  about 
with  a  great  deal  of  good-natured  clamor,  making 
ready  a  feast  against  Laegaire 's  coming. 

Mesgedra  passed  through  the  houses  quickly, 
dropping  a  word  of  quick  command  here  and  there, 
and  reaDy  taking  a  live  interest  in  every  least  prep- 


LAEGAIRE  THE  HIGH  TANTST  313 

aration.  For  even*  word  he  said  Finulla  said 
twenty,  but  still  she  seemed  abstracted  and  thought- 
ful. 

"But  Laegaire  is  not  really  King,"  she  said  sud- 
denly. 

"Certainly  he  is,  in  even-thing  but  the  name. 
While  Dathi  is  overseas,  he  is  as  good  a  King  as 
ever  wore  the  minn." 

"But  he  has  not  power  to  slay  and  pardon." 

"He  has  as  much  as  any  King  under  the  law." 

Finulla  laughed  indulgently. 

"It  is  strange  to  think  of  Laegaire  being  High 
King.  It  seems  only  yesterday  when  he  was  a  little 
foxy-haired  boy,  playing  with  a  cam  an  n,  and  now 
he  rules  provinces  and  commands  armies.  I  must 
ask  a  gift  of  him  in  return  for  all  the  honey-cakes 
he  has  begged  of  me  in  times  gone." 

"Let  it  be  something  worth  while — the  head  of 
an  enemy  or  such  like,"  urged  Mesgedra  with  a 
grin.  "Look,  here  he  comes.  Let  me  see  how 
politely  you  beg  for  it." 

"I  will  ask,  do  not  fear,"  said  Finulla,  and  she 
went  briskly  back  to  the  grianan  as  the  approach- 
ing chariots  reached  the  crossroads  and  began  to 
turn  out  into  the  space  before  the  guest-house  door. 

Mesgedra  hurried  forward  to  greet  the  High  Tan- 
ist,  who  sprang  out  of  his  chariot  and  embraced 
him  with  affection. 

Laegaire  put  on  none  of  the  display  of  rank  which 
Dathi  loved.  His  dress,  though  ornate  enough  in 
cut  and  brilliantly  parti-colored,  was  the  ordinary 


314         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

costume  of  a  man  of  rank.  His  ornaments  were 
only  those  which  custom  demanded  for  any  of  the 
better  class.  His  retinue  was  no  more  numerous 
than  might  have  followed  any  chief  of  a  tuath, 
although  they  were  every  one  men  of  high  conse- 
quence and  of  years.  Their  gray  beards  seemed 
strangely  out  of  place  in  his  gallant  and  youthful 
presence,  for  any  one  seeing  him  would  have  thought 
him  a  young  flaith  of  an  age  and  station  to  be  more 
interested  in  sports  and  chivalry  than  matters  in 
which  his  elderly  advisers  would  be  of  use  to  him. 

He  kept  his  arm  flung  over  Mesgedra's  shoulder 
while  the  old  man  escorted  him  to  the  house  set 
apart  for  him.  The  slaves  led  his  followers  to  their 
alcoves  about  the  hall,  and  for  some  tune  tubs  of 
water  and  heated  stones  were  carried  about  until 
all  had  bathed  and  refreshed  themselves. 

Meanwhile  Mesgedra  hurried  back  to  the  hall, 
saw  to  the  placing  of  the  seats,  and  counted  the 
tables  to  be  sure  that  each  man  had  his  fit  place. 
In  a  little  while  Laegaire  came  out  of  his  house 
and  they  took  then:  places  at  table.  Then  the  cuts 
were  divided,  and  when  each  had  his  fit  portion 
they  fell  to  with  a  hearty  appetite.  Each  guest  was 
put  at  a  table  by  himself,  so  that  none  would  be 
crowded  or  abashed  by  table-fellows  of  too  high 
rank,  except  that  Laegaire  and  Mesgedra  shared  a 
table  so  that  they  might  talk  at  their  ease. 

Laegaire  was  in  moody  spirits.  He  talked  pleas- 
antly with  Mesgedra  of  his  boyhood  at  the  bruden 
and  his  life  at  the  court  of  Tara,  but  his  face  was 


LAEGAIRE  THE  HIGH  TANIST  315 

shadowed  and  he  was  apt  to  forget  himself  in  the 
middle  of  his  speech  and  leave  a  sentence  unfin- 
ished while  he  stared  at  the  table  in  abstraction 
until  a  word  or  a  movement  roused  him. 

At  length,  when  Mesgedra's  curiosity  had  be- 
come almost  unbearable,  the  High  Tanist  put  down 
his  cup  and  spoke  abruptly: 

"Dathi  has  been  swallowed  up  in  Gaul.  No 
heralds  come  from  him.  I  fear  misfortune  has  over- 
taken him." 

Mesgedra  shook  his  head  carelessly. 

"If  you  had  seen  war  you  would  not  be  worried 
over  that.  It  often  happens  that  armies  in  a  hos- 
tile country  find  it  hard  to  send  messages  through." 

"Yet  I  am  disturbed  at  his  silence.  Many  of  my 
friends  are  with  him." 

"My  own  daughter  is  with  that  army,"  said  Mes- 
gedra impatiently.  "If  any  one  had  need  to  be 
disturbed  it  would  be  I.  What  makes  you  so  dole- 
ful?" 

"The  time  grows  long,"  went  on  Laegaire.  "And 
it  grows  more  and  more  distasteful  to  me  to  let  it 
pass  without  doing  anything  to  help  him,  for  it 
seems  shameful  to  me  that  I  should  be  sitting  here 
idle  while  my  cousin  perishes  unaided." 

"I  followed  Niall  and  know  something  of  war- 
fare, and  I  tell  you  they  will  be  no  troop  of  children 
who  will  get  the  best  of  Dathi  of  the  Quick  Weapons 
and  his  army.  Believe  me,  they  will  come  singing 
home  some  day  soon  with  booty  enough  to  fill  the 
Mead-drinking  Hall  at  Tara." 


316         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

"That  it  may  be  so !"  said  Laegaire.  "And  yet 
there  is  a  desire  in  me  to  take  a  few  thousand  spears 
to  his  aid."  He  looked  about  him  fearfully  and  low- 
ered his  voice  a  little.  "To-day,  on  my  way  here, 
I  came  by  Duffa  the  Ollave's  dun,  and  the  old  man 
came  out  to  meet  me.  He  greeted  me  with  marked 
reverence — he  called  me  'Laegaire  the  High  King' ! " 

Mesgedra  blinked  his  eyes  uneasily,  but  the  next 
moment  threw  off  his  awe  with  determination. 

"Pooh!"  he  cried.  "I  do  not  value  all  a  druid's 
mysteries  at  the  worth  of  a  pig's  bristles!  You 
will  be  King  some  day,  of  course,  and  then  the  old 
impostor  will  claim  the  reward  of  a  prophet.  As 
for  your  going  to  Gaul,  that  is  folly.  Would  you 
leave  the  island  without  any  rule?" 

"It  is  hard  to  know  what  to  do."  Laegaire  low- 
ered his  voice  to  a  whisper.  "Another  thing:  there 
are  stirrings  of  trouble  in  Leinster  again.  They  are 
grumbling  over  the  tribute." 

"There  you  see.  If  you  were  to  send  away  all 
the  hardy  spearmen  in  the  country  merely  because 
you  have  had  a  nightmare  about  Dathi,  those  rest- 
less clans  would  be  at  your  throat  in  an  instant. 
Not  that  I  wonder  at  their  discontent,  for  as  I  told 
Niall,  and  Dathi  as  well,  there  will  never  be  peace 
in  the  land  until  that  tribute  is  done  away  with. 
That  quarrel  has  never  rested  for  a  day  in  the  past 
hundred  years,  and  there  has  been  more  blood  shed 
over  it  than  in  all  the  battles  of  the  Fenians.  Why 
can  you  not  let  them  keep  their  goods  in  peace?" 

"It  is  a  just   tribute,"   said   Laegaire   sternly. 


LAEGAIRE  THE  HIGH  TANIST  317 

"And  I  would  cut  Leinster  off  and  sink  it  in  the  sea 
before  I  would  bate  a  horse  or  cloak  of  it.  Give 
in  to  that  nest  of  traitors?  Not  I!" 

"You  make  your  traitors  yourself  with  your  stiff- 
necked  pride,"  Mesgedra  muttered.  "There,  I 
know  what  you  think  and  there  is  no  use  wasting 
words  on  it.  But  forget  your  plan  of  seeking  Dathi 
in  Gaul.  He  will  come  back  in  his  own  time. 
Send  some  spears,  if  you  must,  but  better  keep  them 
by  you." 

"I  suppose  you  are  right,"  said  Laegaire  very  un- 
willingly, showing  in  his  frown  and  the  nervous  tap- 
ping of  his  fingers  how  inaction  and  delay  were 
galling  his  high  spirit. 

"There  is  a  boy  I  know  with  Dathi,"  said  Mes- 
gedra suddenly.  "Conal  is  his  name,  the  son  of 
Cathbar.  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  for  him.  He  is  a 
hothead,  a  true  Ulsterman,  and  he  has  gotten  him- 
self in  a  scrape  with  his  quick  temper.  It  was  a 
boyish  squabble  about  family  rights  and  descent, 
and  he  injured  a  Leinsterman,  Firbis  by  name,  one 
of  the  most  ill-conditioned  fellows  alive,  a  perfect 
Firbolg.  He  fled  and,  I  think,  went  to  Gaul  with 
Dathi.  I  would  like  you  to  take  him  under  your 
protection  when  he  returns,  or,  better  still,  to  pro- 
claim pardon  for  him  at  the  Feis  of  Tara.  It  will 
do  no  harm,  for  the  Leinsterman  is  well  of  his  wound, 
and  it  will  make  you  friends  in  Ulster,  besides 
pleasing  me." 

Mesgedra  spoke  carelessly,  and  Laegaire  answered 
in  good  temper: 


3i8         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

"I  will  do  what  I  can  for  him,  of  course.  But 
why  did  he  not  pay  his  eric  and  settle  it  ?  Of  course 
I  could  not  dispense  him  from  that." 

"He  will  pay  gladly." 

"Let  him  pay,  then.  You  know  as  well  as  I  that 
that  will  end  it,  unless —  There  must  be  something 
you  are  keeping  back.  Come,  tell  me  the  whole 
tale." 

"Well,  to  have  it  all  out,"  said  Mesgedra  bluntly, 
"he  fought  him  at  Tailtenn  in  fan*  time.  But  what 
of  it?  It  was  in  a  good  quarrel,  as  I  can  testify, 
and  the  affair  has  grown  cold  now  and  is  forgotten 
by  every  one  except  the  fellow  whose  head  was 
broken." 

Laegaire  looked  very  dubious. 

"You  know  it  is  my  delight  to  give  you  pleasure," 
he  said  formally,  "but  that  is  a  delicate  affair.  The 
brehons  would  take  it  up — they  have  given  Dathi 
trouble  before  now  when  he  has  set  the  law  aside  in 
this  or  that  man's  favor — and  this  is  a  question  of 
religion  as  well.  It  would  rouse  the  druids.  Then 
there  is  Leinster  to  think  of.  A  thing  of  that  sort 
might  set  the  province  ablaze,  coming  at  this  time." 

"Pshaw,"  grumbled  Mesgedra.  "I  never  knew 
you  to  have  so  many  reasons  for  denying  a  friend  a 
favor." 

"If  I  were  King  myself  I  might  do  it,  but,  ruling 
in  another  man's  place,  it  is  a  thing  I  dare  not 
meddle  with." 

Mesgedra  said  no  more,  but  it  was  plain  to  be 
seen  that  he  was  not  pleased  at  the  refusal.  He 


LAEGAIRE  THE  HIGH  TANIST  319 

did  the  honors  of  the  table  as  in  duty  bound,  but 
with  the  air  of  a  justly  offended  parent,  and  once, 
when  Laegaire's  attention  was  distracted,  he  mut- 
tered in  his  beard :  "Well,  well.  Times  have  changed 
and  young  men  love  brehons  and  druids  better  than 
those  who  fostered  them,"  for  really,  in  spite  of  his 
words  to  Finulla,  he  was  proud  of  having  fostered 
the  future  King,  and  he  was  one  to  uphold  all  the 
rights  and  privileges  that  were  his. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
FINULLA'S  STRATAGEM 

At  last  every  man's  knife  had  been  greased,  and 
every  man's  breath  smelled  of  ale.  Mesgedra  be- 
gan to  recover  his  good  humor,  and  Laegaire  lost 
some  of  his  troubled  air. 

"It  is  good  to  be  back  at  the  bruden,"  said  the 
High  Tanist,  looking  about  him  at  the  well-remem- 
bered hall,  "and  I  am  of  a  mind  to  stay  with  you 
for  the  night  and  go  back  to  Tara  leisurely  to-morrow. 
It  is  a  long  tune  since  I  have  heard  Ronan  sing  or 
played  at  chess  with  my  Aunt  Finulla." 

"That  is  well  thought  of,"  said  Mesgedra,  smiling 
with  pleasure.  "No  one  could  be  more  welcome, 
as  you  know.  Indeed  Finulla  has  been  looking  for- 
ward to  a  game  with  you,  though  I  told  her  you  had 
too  many  cares  for  that." 

"I  will  forget  my  cares  for  a  little;  so,  if  you  will, 
let  some  one  go  and  ask  if  we  will  be  welcome  in  the 
grianan." 

"I  can  answer  for  that.  You  will  find  them  all 
dressed  in  their  finest,  waiting  for  you  as  a  cat  waits 
for  fish-heads.  But  for  all  that  they  will  cry  out 
in  surprise  at  seeing  you,  as  if  you  had  stepped  out 
of  a  mist.  Do  not  be  deceived;  all  women  like  red 
hair.  Ha,  ha!" 

320 


FINULLA'S  STRATAGEM  321 

/ 

He  clapped  Laegaire  boisterously  on  the  shoulder 
and  led  the  way  laughing. 

The  maidens  sprang  up  with  startled  cries  as  they 
entered,  and  Mesgedra's  sister  came  bustling  for- 
ward, with  great  surprise,  vowing  that  she  was 
ashamed  that  the  visitor  should  have  caught  them 
at  their  tasks,  without  even  giving  them  time  to 
attire  themselves  properly.  At  this  Mesgedra  winked 
at  Laegaire  5,nd  broke  into  a  roar  of  laughter,  crying 
in  a  stifled  voice: 

"What  did  I  say?  Do  not  be  deceived  by  them, 
boy,"  which  much  embarrassed  his  sister,  besides 
throwing  Laegaire  into  a  painful  coughing  spell. 

Indeed  there  seemed  to  be  no  need  for  apology, 
for  as  the  girls  came  forward  timidly  to  greet  the 
High  Tanist,  it  could  be  seen  that  they  were  dressed 
fittingly,  and  even  gorgeously,  with  such  a  display 
of  bright  colors  that  they  looked  for  all  the  world 
like  a  flock  of  bright-feathered  birds  coming  fear- 
fully, one  by  one,  to  pick  corn  from  a  stranger's  hand. 

"And  now  for  a  game,"  cried  Mesgedra.  "Come, 
Finulla;  let  us  see  whether  Laegaire  has  learned  any 
new  moves  at  court,  or  if  his  elders  are  still  too 
much  for  him." 

"I  pressed  you  hard  last  tune,"  claimed  Laegaire. 
"  See  if  I  have  not  something  to  show  you  that  will 
surprise  you." 

Finulla  looked  very  knowing,  and  nodded  at  her 
brother  several  times  behind  the  High  Tanist's  back. 

"We  will  play  for  a  stake,  then,  since  you  are  so 
boastful." 


322          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

They  set  seats  and  a  table,  and  brought  out  the 
chess-board  and  a  set  of  ancient  pieces,  each  as  big 
as  a  man's  fist,  half  of  white  bronze,  half  of  the 
carved  teeth  of  great  sea  beasts,  in  the  forms  of 
Kings  and  warriors. 

"Now  what  will  you  play  for?"  asked  Finulla  as 
she  arranged  her  pieces  expertly. 

"I  will  play — for  a  woven  sword-belt  with  buckles 
of  silver.  It  must  be  of  three  stripes  of  three  differ- 
ent colors,  with  a  thread  of  gold  between  each  two 
stripes." 

"I  will  give  that,"  said  Finulla. 

"And  what  will  you  play  for?" 

"I  will  play  for— a  gift." 

"A  gift  of  what  sort?" 

"I  will  not  tell  that  now,  for  perhaps  I  should  not 
get  it." 

"I  will  play  no  such  game,  nor  will  I  give  any 
gift  blindfold,"  said  Laegaire  in  blunt  good  humor. 

Finulla  seemed  somewhat  nettled. 

"What  is  this?"  she  said.  "Are  you  afraid  I  will 
be  too  greedy  ?  They  used  to  say  when  I  was  young 
that  it  was  the  sign  of  a- great  King  not  to  refuse  a 
woman's  asking." 

"That  was  all  very  well  in  Criffen's  tune,"  said 
Laegaire  tolerantly,  "but  Dathi  and  I  refuse  things 
to  women  every  day  with  the  easiest  heart  in  the 
world." 

"At  least  young  people  are  still  supposed  to  be 
respectful  to  their  foster-parents.  I  am  surprised 
at  you,  Laegaire;  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  ever 


FINULLA'S  STRATAGEM  323 

asked  you  to  do  anything  for  me  of  any  importance 
and  you  refuse  it  without  even  knowing  what  it 
is." 

"That  is  not  my  fault,  but  because  you  will  not 
tell,  and  since  you  say  it  is  something  important, 
you  see  I  am  wise  to  be  wary  of  promising  blindly." 

Finulla's  eyes  snapped  with  irritation,  and  she 
looked  as  if  she  would  gladly  have  given  her  royal 
fosterling  a  little  old-time  discipline. 

"I  will  tell  you,  it  is  nothing  so  unreasonable,"  she 
said  coldly.  "I  will  play  you  for  a  man's  life." 

Laegaire's  mouth  fell  open  with  amazement  and 
horror. 

"Aunt !  You  are  mad !  Some  one  has  thrown  a 
wisp  in  your  face,  or  you  have  listened  to  too  many 
old  romances.  Do  you  think  I  would  stake  any 
man's  neck  on  the  chances  of  the  chess-board?  I 
will  give  you  no  man's  life,  you  may  be  sure  of 
that." 

Finulla  rose  with  a  sweep  and  drew  herself  up 
imperiously. 

"I  ask  the  Tanist's  pardon,"  she  said  icily.  "I 
should  have  known  better  than  to  suggest  it.  To  be 
sure,  I  did  not  want  you  to  kill,  but  to  spare,  but  that 
is  a  trivial  point.  Never  mind.  I  trust  that  Conal 
will  be  able  to  take  care  of  himself  without  help 
from  your  condescension." 

She  stalked  out  of  the  room,  white  with  anger. 

"Conal  again!"  said  Laegaire  in  somewhat  ill- 
tempered  fashion. 

"Why,  you  see  how  it  is,"  explained  Mesgedra. 


324         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

"She  knew  the  boy  and  liked  him,  as  we  all  did, 
and,  being  kindly  and  helpful,  I  suppose  she  thought 
she  might  do  something  for  him." 

"By  playing  tricks  on  me.  Oh,  I  understand  well 
enough.  Finulla  saves  him  with  burst  of  trumpets, 
and  Laegaire  is  made  a  laughing-stock !  But  Lae- 
gaire  is  too  clever.  It  will  be  long  before  I  play 
chess  with  Finulla  again." 

"Hut!  Hut!  You  must  pass  it  over  and  be 
kind  to  her.  She  will  be  afraid  of  you  else,  for  you 
were  too  cross  with  her.  You  must  remember  that 
your  rank  gives  weight  to  your  words." 

"Cross!  I?  Did  you  hear  how  frosty  she  was 
when  I  would  not  fall  in  with  her  little  scheme? 
There  is  no  danger  of  Finulla  ever  being  afraid  of 
me,  but  I  might  well  be  afraid  of  her.  I  see  that 
there  is  no  peace  for  me  here,  while  Conal  is  un- 
hung." 

Half  the  maidens  had  run  out  after  Finulla,  the 
other  hah"  stood  apart,  looking  at  Laegaire  with 
wide,  accusing  eyes. 

"Let  us  get  back  to  the  hall,"  said  Mesgedra 
sheepishly.  "There  is  no  sympathy  for  you  here, 
so  we  may  as  well  taste  a  bowl  of  mead  until  the 
storm  is  over." 

"Willingly,  for  if  I  stay  here  long  those  little  girls 
will  be  scratching  at  my  eyes." 

They  went  back  to  the  hall  accordingly,  and  as 
they  entered  it  an  attendant  came  up  hastily  and 
spoke  with  Mesgedra  aside. 

"Is  it  Eoghan?    Let  the  learned  man  be  brought 


FINULLA'S  STRATAGEM  325 

in,  to  be  sure.  You  will  not  mind  if  I  admit  him, 
Laegaire,  for  he  seems  to  have  some  pressing  busi- 
ness." 

"Let  him  come  in,  of  course;  or  do  you  wish  to 
speak  with  him  alone?" 

"Let  me  see  first  what  he  has  to  say.  It  is  not 
likely  to  be  so  important  as  that." 

The  .brehon  came  rolling  in,  all  his  rubicund 
plumpness  glistening  with  heat  and  haste. 

"A  curse  on  all  brawlers  and  squabblers,"  he 
puffed,  wiping  his  forehead  with  his  sleeve,  "and  on 
all  Ulstermen,  be  they  high  or  low !  I  have  spoiled 
two  of  the  best  horses  in  the  land  coming  here,  and 
was  like  to  be  cut  to  pieces  myself.  Weary  the  day 
you  meddled  in  other  people's  affairs !  Nothing  but 
trouble  comes  of  it,  as  I  told  you  at  the  time,  but  you 
would  be  wiser  than  I." 

"A  welcome  before  you,  Eoghan.  Tell  us  quickly 
who  has  affronted  you,  or  what  has  disturbed  you. 
Here  is  Laegaire  who  will  not  suffer  a  learned  man 
to  be  wronged,  and  if  it  is  through  my  fault  that 
you  have  suffered  I  will  make  amends  to  you." 

At  the  High  Tanist's  name  Eoghan  bobbed  his 
head  respectfully,  flung  his  cloak  about  him,  and  put 
on  a  formal  and  professional  air,  such  as  he  consid- 
ered proper  in  the  royal  presence. 

"That  you  may  be  happy  in  peace  and  successful 
in  war,  Laegaire,  protector  of  the  sciences  and  sup- 
port of  the  laws !  It  is  well  known  that  you  have 
the  three  gifts  of  a  King:  courage,  justice  in  judg- 
ment, and  respect  for  the  learned.  A  persecuted 


326         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

man  puts  himself  in  your  hands,  trusting  in  your 
protection." 

"Be  sure  I  will  help  you  if  I  can,"  said  Laegaire. 
"What  is  your  complaint?" 

"I  will  tell  you,  without  a  lie  and  omitting  noth- 
ing. I  was  driving  along  the  road  from  lar  Con- 
naught  up  to  Tara,  turning  over  in  my  mind  an 
intricate  problem  that  has  puzzled  the  wisest  bre- 
hons  of  Eirinn  during  many  months,  for  it  involves 
a  novel  point  of  law,  as  you  will  see  when  I  have 
explained  it  to  you.  Leasca,  a  miller  who  had  bor- 
rowed stock  of  the  King  of  Leinster,  saw  fit  to  tame 
a  calf  out  of  the  herd,  and  make  a  pet  of  it,  although 
the  ancient  verse  says — however,  I  will  pass  the  verse 
by,  as  not  to  the  point,  for  I  wish  to  tell  you  every- 
thing as  briefly  as  possible." 

Mesgedra  nodded  approval  at  the  brehon's  dis- 
cretion, and  he  took  a  fresh  breath  and  proceeded: 

"Now,  the  King  of  Leinster  was  hunting  with  his 
dogs  on  a  Tuesday,  for,  as  you  know,  the  King  of 
Leinster  divides  his  time  as  follows:  on  Sundays  he 
feasts  and  games;  on  Mondays  he  judges  causes;  on 
Tuesdays  he  hunts  and  courses — but  I  will  pass  over 
the  rest  of  the  division,  for,  as  I  say,  I  am  anxious 
to  be  brief  and  to  the  point,  for  that  is  my  nature." 

"Let  us  sit  down,"  said  Laegaire,  "so  that  we 
may  talk  more  comfortably." 

"Well,"  went  on  Eoghan  when  they  were  seated, 
"the  King  passed  by  Leasca's  mill  in  his  hunt,  and 
his  dogs  chased  the  pet  calf  and  worried  it  so  that 
it  died.  Thereupon  Leasca,  the  miller,  put  a  distress 


FDsULLA'S  STRATAGEM  327 

on  the  King  and  claimed  eric  and  honor  price  for 
the  killing." 

"Why,  that  was  an  easy  judgment,"  cried  Lae- 
gaire,  "since  it  was  the  King's  own  calf  that  was 
killed." 

"So  the  brehons  decided,  but  the  miller  raised  a 
perplexing  point,  a  contentious  one  indeed.  He 
claimed  that  the  tameness  of  the  calf  was  something 
that  he  had  given  it  himself,  and  that  the  King  owes 
him  eric  for  the  tameness,  for  he  had  no  right  to 
destroy  it.  Now,  my  own  solution  of  the  difficulty 
is  this — but  I  will  not  go  into  that,  for,  as  I  say,  I 
am  a  man  of  few  words,  and  those  to  the  point." 

"In  the  name  of  Bel,"  said  Mesgedra.  "What 
has  any  of  this  to  do  with  me  or  with  Ulster?" 

"I  am  coming  to  that,  and  without  delay,  for 
brehons  are  ever  men  of  pithy  speech  and  short. 
As  I  was  saying,  I  was  driving  along  the  road  lost 
in  the  problem,  and  I  had  run  over  more  than  eight 
hundred  old  verses  without  recalling  anything  which 
bore  upon  the  question,  when  suddenly  an  ugly 
fellow,  as  big  as  Balor,  with  a  great  axe  in  his  hand, 
drove  up  behind  me  and  bellowed  in  my  ear  so  that 
I  nearly  leaped  over  the  side  of  my  chariot." 

"And  did  he  solve  your  riddle  for  you?"  asked 
Mesgedra,  stirring  uneasily  in  his  seat. 

"He?  Quite  the  contrary.  He  asked  my  ad- 
vice, which  was  only  natural,  for  I  could  see  that  he 
was  struck  with  my  appearance. 

"'Why  are  you  lost  in  such  deep  thought,  learned 
man  ? '  he  said.  *  Xo  doubt  you  are  preparing  some 


328         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

judgment  such  as  the  just  Moran  used  to  give, 
which  will  make  your  wisdom  and  equity  famous 
forever.'  (I  am  merely  repeating  his  words.) 

"'You  may  be  right,  my  son,'  I  answered,  'for  I 
am  weighing  the  case  of  the  miller  Leasca  and  the 
King  of  Leinster— 

"Which  you  will  not  go  into  again,"  suggested 
Laegaire  quietly,  "being  a  man  of  brief  speech." 

"You  have  guessed  my  nature,"  said  the  brehon 
in  a  flattered  tone.  "'Solve  me  a  question,  then,' 
said  the  fellow.  '  I  am  in  trouble  and  I  need  a  wise 
man's  advice.  I  am  the  son  of  a  high  aire  of  Ul- 
ster- 

"  Whose  genealogy  you  will  pass  by  for  the  mo- 
ment," put  in  Mesgedra,  "knowing  how  far  it  is 
safe  to  go  even  among  friends." 

"He  did  not  go  back  farther  than  his  father,  but 
I  know  the  clan  well,  and  if  you  like  I  could  trace 
their  descent  very  exactly  back  to  Heber  himself." 

"Get  on!  Get  on!"  urged  Mesgedra.  "What 
was  the  upshot  of  it?  Can  you  not  tell  us  in  a 
word  without  all  this  talk  that  leads  nowhere?" 

Eoghan  looked  at  him  in  offended  surprise. 

"There  is  never  a  brehon  in  Eirinn  more  inclined 
to  brevity  than  myself,"  he  said  sulkily.  "I  have 
to  tell  you  the  thing  as  it  happened.  But  in  a 
word,  the  fellow  was  Cathbar's  son  Ferdiad,  coming 
back  from  Connaught.  He  had  just  heard  what  has 
been  going  on  in  his  clan,  and  he  is  as  bitter  against 
both  of  us  as  if  he  had  caught  us  stealing  his  fowls. 
'I  have  been  wronged/  he  told  me,  'and  I  will  slit 


FINULLA'S  STRATAGEM  329 

Mesgedra's  throat  for  it;  and  as  for  Eoghan  the 
brehon,  who,  I  am  told,  was  the  brains  of  the  busi- 
ness, I  will  never  sleep  until  I  have  vengeance  en 
him.'  'You  will  never  do  that/  I  told  him.  'He 
is  as  famous  in  combat  as  in  council.'  'I  know  that,' 
said  he,  'nevertheless  I  will  attempt  it — a  man  can 
die  but  once.' 

"I  was  on  the  point  of  making  myself  known  to 
him  and  having  it  out  with  him  on  the  spot,  but  I 
remembered  you,  sitting  here  unsuspecting,  and  I 
thought  it  but  right  to  warn  you  first,  so  I  left 
him  and  came  here  in  hot  haste,  and  he  has  gone 
down  to  Ulster  to  raise  his  men,  for  he  says  his 
birthright  has  been  taken  from  him  by  the  meddling 
of  strangers  and  given  to  a  boy." 

Mesgedra  compressed  his  lips  until  his  beard  all 
but  met  his  brow,  and  wrinkled  his  forehead  until 
his  brows  nearly  touched. 

"That  is  as  unwelcome  a  piece  of  news  as  any  I 
have  heard  these  ten  years  gone,"  he  said  in  great 
vexation.  "I  suppose  I  should  have  foreseen  it, 
and  gone  down  to  Cruachan  and  smoothed  this  Fer- 
diad  with  butter.  I  might  have  guessed  that  he 
would  turn  up  and  make  trouble  for  us,  but  it  is 
hard  to  think  of  everything." 

"Who  is  this  Ferdiad,  and  what  have  you  done  to 
him,  that  he  thinks  you  have  robbed  him  of  his 
right?"  asked  Laegaire. 

"He  is  the  brother  of  a  boy  whom  we  befriended," 
answered  Eoghan.  "By  a  clever  artifice  (I  will  not 
say  of  whose  invention),  we  persuaded  his  clan  to 


330         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

make  him  tanist.  Ferdiad  thinks  we  have  done 
him  wrong  thereby.  It  is  absurd,  of  course,  for  the 
lad  was  as  well  entitled  to  the  place  as  he,  but  he 
knows  nothing  of  the  law  and  has  gotten  it  into  his 
thick  head  that  the  place  was  his  by  right.  I  told 
him  it  was  nonsense.  'It  is  the  right  of  the  clan 
to  choose  whom  they  please,  as  long  as  he  is  of  the 
right  blood  and  without  blemish,'  I  told  him.  'If 
they  made  him  chief,  they  can  unmake  him,'  said 
he,  'and  I  will  slit  every  man's  throat  who  backs 
him,  Mesgedra's  and  Eoghan's  first  of  all ! '  and  he 
whips  out  a  long,  sharp  knife  that  would  cut  a  man 
in  two  without  either  half  knowing  what  had  hap- 
pened. 'I  am  a  law-abiding  man,'  said  I,  'and  the 
law  will  defend  me.'  'It  had  better  begin  now, 
then,'  said  he,  'for  I  will  have  your  heart's  blood 
before  I  sleep.'  With  that  he  let  forth  a  terrible 
shout  and  started  for  me  with  his  blade  gleaming. 
I  think  it  no  shame  that  I  did  not  wait  for  him, 
for  I  could  see  that  he  was  raving,  and  the  proof  of 
his  madness  is  this,  that  his  body  was  made  light 
so  that  he  did  not  touch  the  ground  at  all,  but 
came  at  me  running  over  the  tops  of  the  grass-blades. 
I  beat  my  horses  and  escaped  him,  although  he  pur- 
sued me  for  more  than  a  mile,  as  I  could  tell  by  the 
sound  of  his  panting  behind  me.  My  charioteer  will 
be  witness  that  it  happened  just  as  I  tell  it  to  you." 
As  he  came  to  this  point  the  brehon  became  so 
overcome  with  the  tale  of  his  alarming  experience 
that  the  little  run  of  hair  which  remained  to  him 
bristled  up  over  his  ears,  his  words  ran  into  one 


FINULLA'S  STRATAGEM  331 

another,  and  his  voice  became  more  and  more 
squeaky. 

"It  is  no  wonder  that  he  frightened  you  with  such 
antics,"  said  Mesgedra  in  surprise. 

"  No,  no !  You  mistake  me.  It  was  not  for  being 
frightened  by  such  as  he  that  I  am  called  Eoghan 
the  Ready.  It  was  to  warn  you  that  I  came  away 
so  hastily,  otherwise  I  would  have  dealt  him  a  blow 
with  my  poet's  staff  that  he  would  have  long  re- 
membered. And  now,  what  do  you  mean  to  do? 
He  is  hot  on  my  track  and  may  be  here  at  any  mo- 
ment. You  had  better  call  your  people  together, 
and  if  the  High  Tanist  has  any  of  his  household 
fighting  men  here,  so  much  the  better." 

"I  am  not  likely  to  call  out  my  men  for  one 
Ulsterman,  though  he  were  as  mad  as  a  dog-fox. 
Calm  yourself,  Ready  One.  We  must  consider  what 
had  best  be  done  that  our  plans  may  not  be  foiled 
and  all  our  contriving  wasted." 

"It  was  no  contriving  of  mine,  and  if  you  had 
kept  out  of  it,  as  I  advised,  we  would  not  be  in  fear 
of  our  throats  to-day.  The  best  thing  to  do  is  to 
bar  the  doors  and  keep  watch  with  arms  in  our 
hands,  for  he  vowed  he  would  come  with  his  men 
and  harry  us." 

"Why,  this  must  be  some  notable  champion  to 
have  put  the  fear  of  death  upon  our  learned  friend 
in  such  a  way,"  said  Laegaire,  who  was  beginning 
to  fathom  the  brehon's  character.  "Let  us  go  out 
and  meet  him.  The  three  of  us  will  be  a  match  for 
him,  I  do  not  doubt." 


332          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

"What  have  I  said  that  you  should  keep  hinting 
that  I  fear  him?"  cried  the  brehon.  "Is  it  a  likely 
thing,  I  ask  you,  that  I  should  be  in  fear  of  a  single 
madman — I,  who,  as  Mesgedra  will  tell  you,  charged 
an  army  of  Leinstermen  single-handed,  and  put 
them  to  flight  ?  Not  so,  but  I  am  a  man  of  the  law, 
and  must  set  an  example  of  respect  for  it,  for  what 
says  the  verse? 

'It  is  an  evil  thing,  to  be  deplored  bitterly, 
Druids  and  brehons  to  be  contending  with  sharp  spears.' 

And  again  in  another  verse: 

'  There  are  three  disgraces  for  a  brehon, 
Ignorance,  prejudice,  and  a  contentious  spirit/ 

So  I  think  it  would  not  be  right  for  me  to  go  out 
against  him  with  weapons  to  fight.  But  if  the  High 
Tanist  should  gather  his  men  in  such  numbers  as 
to  overawe  him,  we  can  go  down  into  Ulster  without 
fear  of  being  drawn  into  a  quarrel  with  him  and 
being  tempted  to  commit  deeds  of  violence  that  we 
would  regret  later,  and  with  the  High  Tanist's  help 
we  could  set  Conal  firmly  in  his  seat." 

"By  the  earth,  the  air,  and  the  sun!"  exclaimed 
Laegaire.  "Am  I  never  to  hear  the  last  of  that 
fellow's  name?  What  sort  of  wizard  is  this  Conal 
that  every  one  of  you  must  leave  your  own  business 
to  mind  his  for  him  ?  I  believe  you  are  all  in  a  plot 
to  vex  me  about  him !  First  I  must  ride  over  the 
laws  to  pardon  him  and  please  Mesgedra,  then  Fi- 


FINULLA'S  STRATAGEM  333 

nulla  tries  to  befool  me  into  taking  his  part,  and  now 
a  peaceful  brehon  would  have  me  drench  Ulster  in 
blood  to  make  him  King,  for  such  an  expedition  as 
you  propose  would  be  met  at  the  border  with  a 
shower  of  spears.  I  will  not  do  it,  once  for  all." 

He  got  to  his  feet  and  flung  open  the  door  to  leave 
the  room,  and  in  his  haste  nearly  overthrew  the  bard 
Ronan,  whose  foot  was  on  the  threshold. 

Ronan's  cloak  was  hanging  awry  as  if  he  had 
flung  it  on  without  stopping  to  arrange  it,  and  his 
brooch  was  fastened  on  one  side  so  that  the  pin 
stuck  out  beyond  his  shoulder.  He  clutched  eight 
or  ten  spears  and  his  target  in  one  hand,  his  sword 
and  belt  in  the  other,  as  he  had  caught  them  up 
hastily. 

"What  is  this  I  hear  of  Eoghan's  meeting  with 
Conal's  brother  ?  "  he  asked,  after  making  the  slight- 
est of  reverences  to  the  High  Tanist.  "His  charioteer 
has  been  talking  of  it  in  the  hall,  and  I  came  here  at 
once  for  fear  I  should  be  left  behind.  Of  course, 
you  will  start  for  Ulster  without  delay." 

"We  were  debating  what  to  do,"  Eoghan  answered. 
"We  asked  the  High  Tanist  for  his  aid,  but  he  is  un- 
willing to  help  us." 

"It  is  little  to  me  whether  Laegaire  helps  us  or 
not.  It  is  not  his  affair,  but  ours." 

"Right,"  cried  Mesgedra.  "It  is  shameful  to 
leave  work  half  done.  We  will  go  down  to  Ulster 
and  see  if  wit  or  weapons  can  put  Ferdiad  in  his 
place  and  save  the  kingship  for  Conal." 

He  began  to  call  loudly  for  his  arms  and  his  chari- 


334         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

oteer,  and  in  a  moment  the  whole  house  was  in  con- 
fusion, with  men  rushing  to  and  fro,  and  the  tram- 
pling and  neighing  of  the  horses  being  yoked  into 
the  chariots. 

Laegaire  was  forgotten  for  the  moment  and  stood 
watching  the  preparations  rather  dubiously,  as  if  he 
thought  they  were  part  of  some  plot  to  work  on  his 
sympathies  and  carry  him  away  against  his  will. 

"Is  there  geasa  on  you  to  support  Conal,"  he 
asked  Ronan  abruptly,  "or  why  do  you  rush  to 
his  help  in  this  way?" 

"No  geasa,"  said  Ronan  in  his  most  matter-of- 
fact  voice.  "He  is  our  friend,  that  is  all,  and  if  I 
live  to  a  hundred  years  I  hope  I  will  never  see  my 
friend  in  trouble,  and  stand  apart.  It  is  easy  to 
see  that  you  do  not  know  the  boy  or  you  would 
not  talk  of  seeing  him  robbed  so  cheerfully." 

"There  must  be  something  in  him,"  said  Lae- 
gaire, "or  else  he  has  come  over  all  of  you  with  spells. 
I  side  neither  with  him  nor  against  him;  I  will  not 
use  my  place  for  his  profit,  nor  will  I  stir  a  finger  to 
save  his  skin,  but  I  will  go  down  to  Ulster  with  you 
if  only  to  see  what  luck  you  have  with  your  errand, 
for  never  did  I  hear  of  one  more  harebrained  or 
more  unselfish,"  and  he,  too,  went  clattering  out, 
calling  for  his  attendants. 

"I  also  will  go!"  cried  Eoghan,  gathering  up  his 
fat  sides  from  his  chair,  "for  I  will  be  needed  to  save 
you  from  the  consequences  of  your  folly — and  on 
the  whole  I  think  that  in  the  High  Tanist's  company 
is  a  safe  place  to  be  at  any  time." 


FINULLA'S  STRATAGEM  335 

By  this  time  the  space  in  front  of  the  door  was 
filled  with  chariots,  horses,  and  men,  and  they  had 
only  to  take  their  places  and  be  off. 


CHAPTER  XXX 
UNDERSTANDING 

The  galley  was  rocking  its  way  along  over  the 
harbor  swell,  slowly,  for  the  moon  had  not  yet 
risen  and  it  was  still  too  dark  to  be  sure  of  the 
channel.  There  was  no  need  of  haste  in  any  case. 
They  had  come  all  the  faster  for  the  storms  that 
had  lashed  them  home  over  the  sea.  The  bay  of 
Inver  Colptha  lay  before  them.  By  morning  they 
would  be  safe  ashore  with  all  their  perils  forgotten. 

Conal  sat  on  the  gunwale  and,  peering  out  over 
the  water,  picked  up,  light  by  light,  the  other  ves- 
sels of  the  war  fleet.  Except  for  those  feeble  flecks 
of  brightness  he  could  see  very  little.  There  were 
shadows  beyond  that  meant  land;  a  gap  in  them 
that  was  the  harbor  mouth;  a  patch  of  paler  tone 
that  was  the  bay;  that  was  all. 

The  boat  seemed  very  still.  A  little  mutter 
came  back  to  him  from  where  a  group  of  seamen 
and  warriors  were  gathered  in  the  bow;  he  could 
hear  an  occasional  shriller  whisper  from  under  the 
shadow  of  the  deck  astern,  where  the  women  were 
huddled;  the  steersman  hummed  sometimes  or 
yawned  noisily;  but  these  sounds  seemed  only  to  em- 
phasize the  curious  stillness  of  night  on  the  water. 

He  was  alone  in  the  waist  except  for  one  of  his 

336 


UNDERSTANDING  337 

clansmen,  who  was  dozing  on  a  thwart  near  by. 
Just  before  him  the  King's  body,  in  all  its  mufflings, 
was  propped  against  the  step  of  the  mast  where  the 
light  fell  on  it  and  made  queer  shadows  dance  over 
it,  so  that  it  seemed  to  be  twisting  and  stirring  un- 
easily all  the  time. 

"Now  that  the  storm  has  gone  my  chance  has 
come,"  Conal  considered,  "I  will  wait  till  the  moon 
comes  up  and  then  I  will  call  her  out  and  speak 
with  her.  A  fair  question  and  a  plain  answer.  I 
will  be  satisfied  at  least." 

He  was  very  well  pleased  with  the  thought  and, 
standing  up  briskly,  began  pacing  up  and  down,  in 
the  contracted  space  between  the  rower's  benches, 
as  well  as  he  could  for  the  sweeps  which  were  lying 
crisscrossed  over  the  deck. 

"It  will  not  be  hard  to  come  at  the  truth,"  he 
assured  himself.  "A  word  will  clear  up  everything, 
or,  if  she  will  not  speak,  her  face  will  betray  her. 
But  I  must  choose  my  words  or  she  will  turn  it  all 
to  ridicule."  He  debated  this  for  a  time  and 
weighed  phrase  against  phrase. 

"What  shall  I  say?  Reproachfully,  cEtain,  it 
appears  to  me  you  have  done  me  wrong'  ?  Not  that 
certainly.  Contritely,  'Etain,  my  mind  misgives 
me,  I  have  done  you  wrong'  ?  Worse  yet.  Bluntly, 
'  Why  did  you  treat  me  so  abominably  when  I  valued 
you  above  all'?  Better  but  still  not  touching  the 
main  point — whether  she  turned  against  me  because 
I  was  down  in  the  world  or  for  some  other  reason, 
part  of  the  druid's  contrivings." 


338         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

At  last  he  hit  upon  a  speech  which  satisfied  him. 

"'Etain,  you  seemed  to  have  some  liking  for  me 
once,  and — I  do  not  conceal  it — I  set  great  store 
upon  your  favor.  I  believed  in  you  utterly,  loved 
you  fondly,  would  have  staked  as  much  on  your 
loyalty  as  on  my  own.  It  is  hard  for  me  to  be- 
lieve that  I  was  wrong  and  that  you  could  have  felt 
scorn  for  me  because  I  was  unfortunate.  It  means 
much  to  me  to  know  the  truth — it  can  mean  noth- 
ing to  you  to  conceal  it,  for  you  know  what  is  wait- 
ing me  yonder.  Tell  me  then,  truly ' ' 

He  broke  off  sharply  and  muttered  aloud:  "If 
she  says  it  was  done  in  joke  I  will  know  that  she 
lies." 

Misgivings  came  crowding  into  his  mind  again  and 
he  went  back  to  his  place  to  consider. 

Meantime  an  opal  glow  had  been  spreading  along 
the  sky.  The  black  line  of  the  hills  sprang  out 
sharply  against  it.  The  bloated  moon  swelled  up 
out  of  the  sea  and,  pulling  herself  free  from  it, 
began  to  climb.  The  rowers  were  coming  back  to 
their  benches  and  making  ready  with  their  sweeps. 
Conal  drew  himself  up,  feeling  that  the  time  had 
come,  and  started  back  toward  the  stern  of  the 
boat.  He  bent  under  the  sail  and  when  he  stood 
up  beyond  it  he  could  see  (what  it  had  hidden) 
that  Etain  was  sitting  by  herself  on  the  edge  of  the 
deck  at  the  stern,  holding  on  by  a  rope  that  led 
away  aloft.  He  strode  toward  her  over  the  thwarts 
and  stood  beside  her  before  she  saw  him.  She  drew 
back  abruptly,  but  he  knew  that  it  was  not  through 


UNDERSTANDING  339 

scorn  of  him.  Without  seeing  them,  he  knew  that 
tears  were  in  her  eyes  and  that  she  was  trembling. 
Next  moment  he  found  himself  on  his  knees  by  her, 
groping  for  her  hand  and  gulping  out  his  heart  in 
quick,  unconsidered  words. 

"Etain !  Dear  love,  do  not  grieve.  Why  should 
I  blame  you?  It  was  nothing.  Do  not  bear  re- 
sentment against  me,  either.  By  the  gods  of  my 
people,  if  you  cry  I  will  fling  myself  into  the  water !" 

Etain  rubbed  her  eyes  vigorously  with  her  knuckles, 
leaned  slightly  toward  him  so  that  his  arms  were 
about  her,  and  put  up  her  hand  timidly  to  finger 
his  brooch. 

"That  is  all  right,  then,"  she  said  presently,  in  a 
small,  comforted  voice.  Then,  after  a  little:  "And 
you  are  sure  you  do  not  hate  me?" 

"I  love  you  more  than  life  and  the  light  of  day," 
Conal  whispered  fiercely. 

"That  is  all  right,  then,"  she  said  again  in  satis- 
faction. "And  you  will  not  go  away  and  leave  me 
any  more?" 

"  Not  until  we  are  ashore." 

"And  then  not  for  very  long?" 

Conal  suddenly  grew  afraid.  His  voice  stumbled 
and  he  drew  back  to  look  in  her  face. 

"Etain!  Do  you  not  know?  Have  you  never 
heard  what  is  the  penalty  for  what  I  did?" 

The  girl  stared  at  him,  clearly  with  no  idea  of 
what  he  meant. 

"The  penalty  for  what  you  did?  What  did  you 
do,  then?" 


340         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

"Killing  Firbis,  I  mean — that  last  day  at  Tail- 
tenn.  It  was  breaking  the  peace  of  the  fair." 

Etain  gave  a  quick,  sharp  gasp  of  understanding 
and  complete  horror,  and  flung  her  arms  about  his 
head  as  if  to  cover  and  protect  him. 

"Turn  about  the  boat!"  she  cried.  "Turn  it 
about !  Thank  fortune,  there  still  is  time !  :  We  will 
be  safe  in  Alban  or  somewhere  hi  the  islands,  safe 
and  happy  together.  Let  the  others  go  on  if  they 
will.  Oh,  what  if  you  had  not  told  me  in  time !" 

She  stopped  breathless,  feeling  that  Conal  was 
standing  strangely  unresponsive.  Terror  began  to 
take  hold  of  her. 

"Why  do  you  not  speak?  I  have  been  frightened 
enough.  Tell  me  it  will  all  be  well.  Call  to  them 
to  put  about!" 

Now  that  it  was  too  late  Conal  cursed  himself. 
Would  she  not  have  known  soon  enough? 

"If  only  I  had  not  told  you,"  he  said  hi  a  low 
voice,  full  of  self-reproach.  "But  how  could  I 
guess  that  you  did  not  know?  It  is  useless,  sweet- 
heart. I  cannot  turn  back.  I  must  take  the  King's 
body  to  Cruachan.  There  is  no  help,  no  escape.  It 
is  geasa." 

The  word  confounded  her  with  its  terrible  final- 
ity. She  protested  no  more,  but  clung  to  him  and 
sobbed  and  sobbed,  while  he  tried  to  comfort  her 
in  such  poor  ways  as  he  could. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  he  could  quiet  her  even 
a  little,  and  then  it  was  more  that  her  strength  was 
spent  than  that  she  was  resigned.  But  at  any  rate 


UNDERSTANDING  341 

she  grew  calmer,  and  only  the  recurrent  shudder 
that  came  over  her  and  her  measured,  gasping  breath 
betrayed  her  utter  woe.  Conal  took  her  head  on 
his  shoulder  and  talked  on  and  on.  He  poured  out 
all  his  store  of  endearments,  used  every  wile  that 
love  or  pity  could  teach  him  to  lighten  her  despair, 
if  only  for  the  time.  Little  by  little  she  got  back 
some  of  Jier  fortitude,  resolved  to  be  brave  and  was 
brave,  answered  him  when  he  spoke,  though  it  was 
with  a  pitiable  effort,  and  paid  him  for  his  fondness 
with  a  smile,  if  but  a  sad  one. 

Then  she  would  have  him  tell  her  all  the  story  of 
his  flight  and  peril,  his  capture  and  escape,  accom- 
panied the  tale  with  little  murmurs  of  protest  and 
pity,  and  jealously  claimed  her  own  share  of  what 
had  gone  well  with  him,  so  that,  knowing  at  last 
what  she  had  done  for  him,  and  feeling  the  comfort 
of  her  presence,  he  loved  her  the  more  and  felt  the 
injustice  of  fate  more  keenly  and  hopelessly. 

The  night  passed.  At  sunrise  they  anchored  in 
the  haven,  and  curraghs  put  off  to  them  from  the 
shore.  Conal  went  forward  and,  waking  his  sleep- 
ing clansman,  told  him  to  prepare  for  landing,  and 
when  they  had  got  ashore  to  call  the  clan  and  the 
other  chariot-men  together  and  to  have  a  litter 
made  ready.  The  landing  was  an  affair  of  an  hour, 
and  soon  afterward  the  clansman  reported  that  all 
he  had  ordered  was  done.  Conal  led  Etain  to  where 
the  chariots  were  waiting  and  beckoned  to  the  man 
to  come  forward. 

"Rudrig,"  he  said,  "the  time  has  come  when  I 


342          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

must  leave  you,  and  you  and  the  Children  of  the 
Raven  must  seek  another  service.  You  knew  be- 
fore that  I  had  fled  from  the  ban  of  the  law.  I 
cannot  escape  it  longer.  Its  hand  is  about  to  close 


on  me." 


"There  are  eight  of  us  it  must  close  on  first," 
Rudrig  answered  rebukingly.  "  And  there  are  others 
in  the  army  who  would  have  no  great  respect  for  it 
if  it  threatened  you.  Surely  you  know  us  by  now. 
Whatever  comes,  we  stand  by  you." 

"Where  I  am  going  now  no  clan  can  help  me,  and 
you  can  serve  me  better  in  another  way.  I  com- 
mend this  lady  to  you  and  I  put  her  safety  in  your 
hands.  For  my  sake  she  will  prize  your  friendship; 
let  her  be  your  cherished  mistress,  as  she  is  my 
chief  treasure  and  most  dear  love." 

Rudrig  cried  out  again  in  protest,  but  Conal 
silenced  him  with  a  word. 

"I  am  your  chief  still,  remember."  Then  he 
turned  to  Etain. 

"Let  this  be  our  parting,  before  it  is  too  hard, 
while  I  have  strength  to  go  through  with  it." 

"Let  me  go  with  you,  die  with  you,  if  it  must 
be." 

Conal  shook  his  head,  kissed  her  mouth  once, 
and  put  her  sobbing  in  the  litter.  Another  fare- 
well, another  whisper  of  love  and  regret,  and  he 
tore  himself  away  from  her  arms,  waved  the  chariot- 
men  on,  and  strode  away. 

Rudrig  rode  beside  the  litter,  heartbroken,  re- 
sentful, but  loyally  obedient  to  his  chief's  word; 


UNDERSTANDING  343 

Etain  wept  bitterly  among  her  cushions;  the  chariot- 
men  followed  in  order,  bewildered  and  curious. 

They  had  ridden  for  perhaps  an  hour  when  Etain 
put  aside  her  curtains  and  called  Rudrig  to  her. 

"Rudrig,"  she  said,  "you  love  your  lord?" 

The  clansman  smiled  contempt  at  the  question. 

"Can  we  not  do  something,  something  to  save 
him — against  his  will  if  need  be?" 

Rudrig  looked  at  her  with  renewed  good-will. 

"That  is  worth  thought.  If  only  we  knew  what 
he  feared." 

"Did  you  not  know,  then,  that  danger  threatened 
him?" 

"I  knew  long  ago  that  he  was  under  ban,  but  I 
do  not  know  why  he  thinks  the  danger  is  more  press- 
ing now  than  before." 

"It  is  because  he  is  under  geasa  to  go  to  Crua- 
chan.  He  believes  they  will  seize  him  there  and 
pass  sentence  on  him." 

"No  doubt  they  will  if  any  one  there  recognizes 
him  and  has  an  interest  in  accusing  him." 

"That  will  happen  without  doubt.  There  are 
always  Leinstermen  at  the  court  of  Cruachan,  and 
Firbis,  he  says,  was  a  great  man  among  them." 

"What  Firbis  was  that?"  asked  Rudrig  sharply. 

"Firbis  of  the  Hy  Fiacra,  his  cousin,  whom  he 
slew  at  Tail  term  fair." 

Rudrig  threw  up  his  hand  to  the  sky  and  let  it 
fall  on  his  thigh  again  with  a  slap,  while  his  face 
lighted  up  with  malignant  satisfaction. 

"If  Conal  was  no  chief  of  mine  but  a  stranger," 


344         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

he  said  solemnly,  "for  that  one  thing  I  would  die 
for  him  and  be  grateful  to  him  as  I  died.  How 
did  it  come  that  he  never  told  me  the  man's  name  ? 
He  would  have  saved  me  much  plotting,  unavailing 
vows  of  vengeance,  and  the  constant  fear  that  I 
would  die  before  Firbis  had  his  deserts.  So  much, 
for  him,  the  swine !  He  is  where  I  would  have  him, 
although  with  less  pain  than  was  his  due.  But  you 
are  right,  it  is  the  worse  for  Conal,  for  Firbis's 
friends  are  powerful  and  they  will  not  spare  him. 
There  is  only  one  thing  that  remains,  to  follow  him 
discreetly  to  Cruachan  and  die  fighting  for  him." 

"That  we  must  do  if  nothing  better  offers,  but  is 
there  no  other  way?  No  way  of  saving  him?" 

"If  there  is  geasa  on  him  he  must  go  to  Crua- 
chan, and  once  there  I  fear  he  is  doomed.  Only 
the  High  King,  Laegaire  himself —  What  is  the 
matter  ?  " 

"Laegaire!"  cried  Etain  with  renewed  hope. 
"How  could  I  have  forgotten  him ?  He  is  my  foster- 
brother.  He  will  give  me  Conal's  life.  There  will 
be  time.  His  road  is  by  his  father's  dun,  and  he  will 
stop  there,  he  said,  to  see  him  again.  Hurry  on  to 
Tara  that  we  may  get  to  Cruachan  before  him. 
We  rode  once  to  save  him,  Rudrig;  we  will  ride  to 
save  him  again!" 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

AN  END  TO  FIRBIS 

It  was  on  the  second  day  of  their  journey,  and 
Mesgedra  and  Laegaire  with  their  train  were  trav- 
elling along  the  verge  of  the  great  forest,  stretching 
southward  toward  the  Liny  and  the  Ford  of  the 
Hurdles.  Their  desire  for  haste  had  led  them  off 
the  travelled  roads  to  this  rough  track,  little  used 
but  well  known  to  such  hunters  as  they,  for  the  for- 
est, where  in  old  times  Finn  and  his  men  had  chased 
boar  and  deer,  was  still  virgin  and  well  stocked 
with  game,  and  the  favorite  hunting-ground  of  the 
kings  and  nobles  of  Meath  and  Leinster. 

The  way  was  narrow  and  they  travelled  in  single 
file,  Ronan  leading  the  way,  so  that  it  was  Ronan 
who  first  saw  the  form  of  a  man,  pacing  up  and  down 
by  the  roadside  in  advance  of  them,  and  he  pushed 
ahead  when  he  saw  him,  thinking  with  good  reason 
that  any  one  alone  and  on  foot  in  this  lonely  place 
must  have  met  with  some  mishap  and  must  be  in 
need  of  help. 

The  man  faced  about  as  Ronan  came  up  to  him 
and  waved  his  arm  with  a  gesture  of  warning.  The 
bard  recognized  him  at  once.  It  was  Duffa  the 
druid,  though  what  Duffa  could  be  doing  there, 

345 


346         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

alone  and  so  far  from  his  dun,  was  something  he 
could  not  guess. 

"Turn  back !  Turn  back !"  the  druid  cried  with- 
out preface.  "Back  with  all  speed,  and  do  not  stop 
to  question  me.  There  may  still  be  time  to  save 
the  High  King." 

"What  threatens  the  High  King?"  asked  Ronan 
in  surprise  and  in  some  misgiving,  for  the  druid 
spoke  with  such  energy  and  conviction  that  it  was 
plain  that  he  was  in  earnest,  yet  with  a  look  so  wild 
and  troubled  that  the  bard  could  not  believe  that 
he  was  in  his  proper  mind.  "And  what  do  you 
here,  old  man,  without  attendants,  in  so  wild  a 
place?" 

"Be  off!"  said  the  druid  fiercely.  "While  you 
are  talking  the  chance  is  lost.  Back  to  the  high- 
road and  to  Tara  if  you  can.  If  not,  to  the  first 
strong  dun,  for  danger  threatens  before  and  behind." 

As  Ronan  still  stared  at  him,  he  brushed  past 
him  to  meet  Laegaire  and  Mesgedra,  who  were 
coming  up  at  that  moment,  and,  taking  the  High 
Tanist's  horse  by  the  halter,  he  attempted  to  turn 
the  chariot  about  and  head  it  back  again. 

"What  is  this?  What  are  you  about,  Duffa?" 
said  Laegaire  impatiently.  "Let  go  the  halter 
there  and  stand  out  of  the  way.  I  think  you  are 
forgetting  yourself  strangely." 

"Why  are  you  here,  so  close  to  the  boundaries  of 
Leinster?"  returned  the  druid.  "Have  you  for- 
gotten that  it  is  geasa  on  the  High  King  to  go 
left-handwise  around  Meath?  Return  instantly. 


AN  END  TO  FIRBIS  347 

There  is  not  a  moment  to  lose."  And  he  still  strove 
to  drag  the  horses'  heads  around  in  the  other  direc- 
tion. 

"What  is  this  talk  of  High  Kings,"  Laegaire  cried. 
"This  is  the  second  time  you  have  spoken  to  me 
in  this  way.  The  High  King  is  in  Gaul,  where  we 
can  neither  help  nor  harm  him,  and  I  will  have  none 
of  these,  mumblings  and  mysteries.  Stand  out  of 
my  way  or,  druid  or  no  druid,  I  will  break  my 
spear-shaft  over  your  shoulders." 

"The  High  King  is  nearer  than  you  think,"  said 
Duffa  earnestly,  "but  there  is  no  time  for  explana- 
tion. The  Leinstermen  are  up  and  on  the  march 
to  burn  Tara  and  free  themselves  from  tribute 
forever !  Fly  while  there  is  time  or  they  will  cut 
you  off  and  take  you!" 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  the  High  Tanist  ob- 
jected. "If  anything  like  that  were  in  the  wind 
I  would  have  heard  of  it  before  you." 

"Let  us  argue  that  another  tune,"  said  Mesgedra 
peremptorily.  "We  are  warned  and  will  have  our- 
selves to  thank  if  we  are  caught  by  them.  Even 
if  the  alarm  is  false,  it  is  only  a  little  farther  by 
the  highroad,  and  I  will  never  consent  to  your  going 
on  while  I  am  with  you  and  responsible  for  your 
safety." 

As  he  spoke  he  began  to  back  his  chariot  off  the 
road  and  pull  at  the  horses'  heads  to  turn  them. 

"I  need  no  one  to  protect  me  but  myself,"  said 
Laegaire  haughtily,  "and  I  never  turned  my  back 
on  enemy  yet.  It  would  make  a  fine  song,  how 


348          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

Laegaire  fled  from  an  army  of  Leinstermen  who 
lived  only  in  a  druid's  fancy." 

"While  you  are  talking  they  will  be  upon  us," 
cried  the  druid  desperately.  "Must  you  wait  to 
be  murdered  before  you  will  believe  me?  Any  mo- 
ment may  bring  them.  Your  blood  on  your  own 
head,  for  I  have  tried  to  save  you." 

"I  believe,  at  least,"  Mesgedra  cried.  "Take 
him,  Ronan,  and  be  quick." 

At  the  word  the  bard  snatched  the  sword  from 
Laegaire's  scabbard  and  flung  it  as  far  as  he  could, 
and,  catching  the  High  Tanist  around  the  body  from 
behind,  forced  him  down  into  his  seat  and  held  him 
fast,  while  Mesgedra  seized  the  halters  and,  driving 
his  own  horses  in  a  circle,  led  Laegaire's  with  them 
until  they  were  turned  completely  about. 

"I  will  have  your  head  for  this,"  swore  Laegaire, 
struggling  with  all  his  strength. 

"As  you  please,  if  only  we  save  your  life,"  Ronan 
returned  coolly,  and  he  gripped  him  all  the  tighter, 
so  that  rage  as  he  might  he  could  not  free  himself. 

Laegaire's  counsellors  hung  back,  for,  though 
scandalized  at  Mesgedra's  laying  hands  on  their 
lord,  none  of  them  doubted  for  a  moment  that  the 
druid's  warning  was  true. 

"Follow  slowly  to  keep  them  oft"  if  they  come  be- 
hind us,"  Ronan  shouted  to  them.  "We  will  make 
straight  for  Tara." 

"Too  late,"  cried  the  druid  hopelessly.  "They 
are  upon  us." 

At  that  moment  a  clear  whistle  sounded  in  the 


AN  END  TO  FIRBIS  349 

woods,  and  a  man  appeared  between  every  pair  of 
tree  trunks.  Outnumbering  the  High  Tanist's  sup- 
porters three  to  one,  armed  and  menacing,  they  had 
surrounded  every  chariot  in  an  instant  and  held 
a  spear  to  every  man's  throat.  Eoghan,  whose 
chariot  was  last  in  line,  alone  had  a  moment's  warn- 
ing, and  with  a  quick  decision  that  in  another  cause 
would  have  shown  that  his  surname  was  honestly 
earned,  he  drove  his  horses  up  on  the  bank  and 
around,  and  went  flying  down  the  road  with  one 
wheel  in  the  ditch.  The  others  stood  helpless,  for 
resistance  seemed  impossible. 

The  leader  of  the  Leinstermen  swaggered  for- 
ward. 

"A  fair  greeting  to  you,  Laegaire,  for  there  is  not 
another  man  in  Eirinn  that  I  would  rather  have 
met  here  than  yourself.  And  a  welcome,  too,  to 
my  old  acquaintance  Mesgedra.  Surely  you  have 
not  forgotten  me?" 

"I  know  you,  Firbis,"  said  Mesgedra  shortly. 

"You  will  know  me  better  before  we  part,"  said 
Firbis  with  an  unpleasant  laugh.  "May  you  live 
long  to  remember  me  thereafter!  And  I  have  seen 
this  bard  before,  I  think;  and  these  excellent  coun- 
sellors, I  know  every  man  of  them.  This  is  indeed  a 
pleasant  meeting,  and  a  profitable  one,  I  will  be 
bound,  for  me  and  for  Leinster.  Who  has  cords 
or  thongs?  Such  guests  must  be  kept  with  care." 

"Think  well  what  you  do,"  admonished  one  of 
the  counsellors.  "It  is  not  honorable  to  treat  any 
prisoner  harshly,  and  if  you  mistreat  the  High  Tan- 


350         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

ist  Dathi  will  come  before  long  and  waste  Leinster 
from  the  Liny  to  the  sea." 

"It  would  seem  that  we  are  more  likely  to  waste 
Meath.  But  in  truth  I  have  no  grudge  against 
Laegaire,  and  he  would  be  but  a  troublesome  pris- 
oner, so  I  am  willing  to  release  him,  and  all  of  you 
who  are  of  his  house,  if  he  will  swear  by  earth,  air, 
and  sun  that  nevermore  shall  tribute  be  asked  of 
Leinster.  I  have  my  own  King  to  answer  to,  and 
better  terms  than  that  I  dare  not  give.  Mesgedra 
and  the  bard  I  will  not  give  up.  They  are  my  own 
prisoners,  and  I  have  something  to  settle  with  them 
which  cannot  be  satisfied  by  a  ransom." 

"Do  you  think  I  will  take  freedom  on  such 
terms?"  cried  Laegaire.  "Though  I  die  here,  you 
will  not  live  to  boast  of  it." 

With  that  he  sprang  nimbly  over  the  side  of  his 
chariot,  wrested  a  spear  from  the  nearest  of  the 
Leinstermen,  and  began  to  lay  about  him  so  viciously 
that  he  had  wounded  three  men  before  a  blow  was 
struck  at  him  in  return,  and  the  others,  following 
his  example,  snatched  the  weapons  nearest  to  hand 
and  dealt  brisk  blows  with  them. 

"Rush  in  on  them!  Cut  them  dowTi!"  Firbis 
shouted,  and  he  himself  swung  up  his  sword  and 
made  for  the  High  Tanist.  Laegaire  was  parrying 
a  blow  from  the  other  side,  and  his  head  and  shoulder, 
unprotected,  made  a  fair  mark,  but  before  the  Lein- 
sterman's  sword  fell,  a  chariot  dashed  full  tilt  into 
the  centre  of  the  group,  scattering  the  footmen  like 
toppling  chessmen,  and  the  driver,  briskly  cutting 


AN  END  TO  FIRBIS  351 

down  a  man  who  stood  between,  struck  Firbis's 
sword  aside  and  faced  him.  Firbis  roared  with 
impatience  to  kill  and  sprang  upon  the  newcomer, 
who  met  him  half-way  hi  his  spring.  Their  shields 
clashed  with  a  loud  noise  and  their  swords  met  and 
struck  fire  above  and  below. 

The  next  moment  chariot  after  chariot  came  hur- 
tling into  the  press;  swords  beat  upon  the  Leinster- 
men's  heads;  plunging  horses  tumbled  them  in  the 
dust;  until,  outnumbered  in  their  turn,  they  broke 
and  ran  for  the  shelter  of  the  woods,  leaving  their 
leader  fighting  desperately.  For  the  newcomer 
fought  like  a  flame.  Guard  and  parry  as  Firbis 
might,  the  other's  sword  searched  out  the  rifts  in 
his  defense;  licked  in  and  out,  leaving  its  mark  in 
trickling  threads  of  blood;  wove  a  sphere  of  bright 
flashes  about  him,  so  swiftly  did  stroke  follow  stroke. 
As  he  fought,  the  stranger  began  to  talk,  and  his 
voice  rose  exultingly  over  the  ringing  of  the  steel. 

"What,  you  are  come  back  from  the  dead,  Firbis? 
Conal's  stroke  was  not  sure,  then?  Mine  will  be 
surer.  Do  you  remember  me,  Leuisterman?  I  re- 
member you.  Do  you  remember  the  Children  of 
the  Raven  and  their  chief's  dun  on  the  Connaught 
border?  Do  you  remember  the  night  that  dun  was 
stormed?  I  remember  it,  Firbis.  I  saw  your  face 
by  the  light  of  the  flames  when  I  turned  for  a  last 
look  that  night  before  I  fled  away,  homeless  and 
chiefless.  I  saw  you  when  you  crushed  my  chief's 
head  with  your  axe  as  he  lay  dead  on  the  ground. 
I  heard  you  laugh  when  they  tossed  out  the  babies 


352          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

onto  the  spear-points.  You  are  not  laughing  now, 
Leinsterman.  Your  breath  is  coming  faster.  It  will 
not  be  long  now.  So,  and  so !  A  little  higher  next 
time.  There !  That  for  my  old  chief,  and  this  for 
the  new  one!" 

Firbis  toppled  sideways  and  slapped  the  earth 
with  his  limp,  extended  arms.  He  writhed  for  a  mo- 
ment, clenched  his  hands,  collected  all  his  strength, 
and  flung  back  at  his  enemy  the  historic  taunt: 

"From  now  till  the  end  of  tune,  Connaughtmen 
under  the  yoke.  The  serving  of  the  children  of 
princes,  the  tending  of  hounds,  such  is  their  lot 
forever." 

His  eyes  rolled  upward  out  of  sight,  a  shudder 
passed  over  him,  and  he  died. 

The  other  turned  away,  wiping  his  sword  with 
the  palm  of  his  hand. 

"Well  done!"  cried  Ronan.  "I  have  not  seen 
two  handier  strokes  in  fifteen  years.  You  are  a 
born  swordsman,  my  friend." 

"And  you  came  in  good  time,"  said  Mesgedra. 
"Another  moment  and  we  would  not  have  been 
alive  to  thank  you.  We  had  no  hope  that  any  friend 
would  be  near  in  such  a  lonely  place." 

The  clansman  stood  silent  for  a  moment,  collect- 
ing himself,  then  he  smiled  in  a  friendly  fashion  and 
put  out  his  hand  to  take  Mesgedra's. 

"Our  coming  was  natural  enough.  We  have 
been  following  the  High  King  about  from  pillar  to 
post,  from  Tara  to  Bruden  Mesgedra,  and  when  a 
druid  told  us  that  he  was  here  and  in  danger,  and  a 


AN  END  TO  FIRBIS  353 

brehon  whom  we  met  on  the  way  confirmed  it,  of 
course  we  hurried  on.  Without  that,  the  name  of 
Firbis  would  have  been  enough  to  bring  me." 

"The  druid  told  you?"  cried  Laegaire,  staring 
about.  " Where  is  he?  Plague  on  him!  He  must 
have  slipped  away  through  the  woods.  Where  did 
you  leave  him,  for  I  am  determined  to  get  to  the 
bottom  of  his  talk  of  the  High  King?" 

"He  stopped  us  ten  miles  from  here,  two  hours 
gone,"  the  stranger  answered,  with  some  show  of 
surprise.  "But  is  Laegaire  not  here?  It  would 
be  hard  if  we  were  to  miss  him  after  all.  I  was 
told  that  both  he  and  Mesgedra  the  brugaid  were 
of  your  party." 

"I  am  Laegaire,  and  this  is  Mesgedra.  What 
did  you  seek  of  us?  It  will  be  hard  to  refuse  you 
anything  after  what  you  have  done." 

"The  lady  Etain  (there  she  is  coming  with  the 
brehon)  has  a  favor  to  ask  of  your  clemency." 

Mesgedra  glanced  keenly  from  the  clansman  to 
the  girl  riding  toward  him  in  the  brehon's  chariot. 
A  look  of  shrewd  surmise  came  into  his  face. 

"Dathi  is  dead,"  he  stated  in  a  tone  of  convic- 
tion. Then  he  forgot  everything  except  his  own 
and,  magically  getting  rid  of  twenty  years  in  a  mo- 
ment, sprang  to  embrace  his  daughter. 

"Can  that  be  true?"  cried  Laegaire  aghast. 
"Has  Dathi  found  death ?  Where,  then,  is  the  army 
of  aires  and  champions  he  led  to  Gaul?" 

"It  is  true.  To-morrow  his  body  will  lie  with 
his  fathers  in  Cruachan  of  the  Enchantments.  Of 


354         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

the  aires  and  chiefs,  some  are  with  the  King's  body, 
some  have  gone  to  their  homes,  and  many  are  dead 
on  the  fields  of  Gaul  and  will  return  no  more." 

"And  where  did  Dathi  die?" 

"Far  from  here  among  high  mountains  of  ice  the 
power  of  the  sky  burst  forth  and  consumed  him. 
A  month  and  a  half  we  carried  his  body  with  us, 
for  we  were  not  willing  to  leave  him  among  his 
enemies.  We  bore  him  over  mountains  and  rivers, 
through  armies  and  hostile  tribes,  and  we  fought 
our  way  and  paid  toll  of  lives.  Our  captains  lie 
under  the  earth  from  here  to  the  back  of  Gaul,  and 
it  is  certain  we  would  all  have  perished  but  for  my 
chief,  our  leader,  who  delivered  us." 

"If  you  had  not  said  he  was  your  chief  I  would 
have  guessed  that  Brian  would  have  led  the  army 
after  the  King's  death." 

"Brian  did  lead  us  hi  the  beginning,  but  his  cairn 
is  on  the  river  bank  where  we  first  met  the  Romans." 

"My  grief  at  that  ill  news!"  cried  Mesgedra. 
"But  tell  me  who  is  your  chief?  For  I  thought  I 
knew  every  famous  warrior  in  Eirinn,  but  I  have 
never  heard  of  the  Children  of  the  Raven  before 
this  day." 

"That  may  well  be,  and  perhaps  you  have  never 
heard  his  name,  but  you  will  hear  it,  for  to-morrow 
bards  will  sing  it.  I  follow  Conal." 

With  the  word  Etain  was  at  Laegaire's  feet,  cry- 
ing in  her  sweet,  shrill  voice:  "  Spare  him !  Spare, 
Laegaire!  It  is  your  sister  who  asks,"  so  that  it 
was  pitiful  to  hear  her. 


AN  END  TO  FIRBIS  355 

"Here  indeed  is  a  tale  to  be  told,"  said  Mesgedra 
in  great  excitement.  "Let  us  sit  down  in  this  shady 
place  and  let  the  horses  be  turned  out  to  graze,  for 
I  will  not  stir  from  this  spot  until  I  have  heard  it 
all  from  the  beginning." 

"With  all  my  heart,"  said  Laegaire  (perhaps  he 
was  not  altogether  displeased  at  having  an  excuse 
for  doing  what  all  of  them  desired  so  ardently). 
"I  must"  know  more  of  that  man.  He  has  been 
faithful  to  a  dead  King.  Who  knows  but  he  may 
be  useful  to  a  live  one." 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

THE  CHAMPION'S  PORTION 

The  flaiths  were  gathered  again  in  Cathbar's  dun 
to  hear  Ferdiad  and  consider  his  protest.  His  run- 
ners had  gone  far  and  wide  to  all  his  friends  and 
followers,  and  every  man  of  them  was  there  to 
support  him,  as  well  as  many  others  who  had  come 
to  feel  that  they  had  been  hasty  in  choosing  Conal 
to  be  their  chief,  for  now  that  the  spell  of  Mesgedra's 
words  was  weakened  by  time,  they  were  puzzled  to 
give  any  good  reason  for  selecting  the  younger 
brother  in  spite  of  his  senior's  claims. 

The  chain  of  silence  had  been  shaken,  and  Cath- 
bar  had  risen  to  open  the  debate.  The  old  warrior 
was  no  orator,  and  when  he  spoke  he  spoke  straight 
to  the  point. 

"There  is  but  one  thing  we  have  to  consider,  as 
far  as  I  know,"  he  said,  "and  for  myself,  I  cannot 
see  why  I  should  take  one  side  or  the  other.  At 
first,  I  will  not  conceal  it,  I  was  angry  at  Ferdiad 
for  opposing  his  brother.  'Why  do  you  come  home 
to  make  trouble?'  I  said  to  him.  'The  thing  is 
settled.  Let  it  be.  You  cannot  expect  to  be  first 
in  everything.'  But  the  boy  has  explained  to  me 
why  he  thinks  he  should  have  the  place,  as  he  will 

356 


THE  CHAMPION'S  PORTION  357 

explain  it  to  you,  and,  as  I  say,  there  is  no  reason 
why  I  should  take  sides,  for,  one  way  or  the  other, 
the  kingship  will  be  in  the  family." 

With  that  he  sat  down  and  beckoned  to  a  slave 
to  bring  mead  for  him,  while  the  others  turned  to 
Ferdiad  to  hear  him  state  his  own  case. 

The  huge  fellow  heaved  himself  to  his  feet  and 
looked  about  him  for  encouragement.  He  kept  his 
axe  by  him,  leaning  on  it,  or  putting  it  from  hand 
to  hand,  for  the  feel  of  it  gave  him  confidence,  and 
he  was  shifting  his  weight  from  one  foot  to  the  other 
all  the  tune  he  was  speaking. 

"You  know  I  am  not  used  to  talking,"  he  said 
gruffly,  after  clearing  his  throat  once  or  twice. 
"Oftentimes  a  man  can  bring  people  to  think  any- 
thing with  his  smooth  words,  when  he  is  no  better 
in  the  field  than  a  rabbit.  It  is  the  other  way  with 
me,  so  if  my  words  do  not  come  as  smoothly  as  they 
might,  remember  what  I  have  done  in  the  past  and 
consider  whether  it  is  better  to  have  a  chief  who 
can  talk  or  one  who  can  handle  a  spear.  If  there 
is  a  man  here  who  has  killed  more  Connaughtmen 
than  I,  let  him  prove  it  by  the  bards — but  you  know 
what  the  Connaughtmen  themselves  say.  When  a 
hostage  was  wanted  they  would  be  satisfied  with 
no  one  but  me.  Then  why  have  you  set  me  aside 
and  put  shame  on  me?" 

He  opened  his  mouth  to  speak  further,  but  closed 
it  again  and  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  ceiling  as  if  to 
collect  his  thoughts.  He  seemed  to  feel  that  there 
was  something  more  to  be  said,  but  no  more  words 


358         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

came,  and  he  sat  down  slowly  at  length  as  if  he 
might  change  his  mind  at  any  moment  and  con- 
tinue. 

At  once  a  man  arose  on  the  other  side  of  the  hall, 
an  elderly  flaith,  much  respected  in  the  clan,  but 
as  little  of  a  speaker  as  either  of  the  others. 

"You  put  shame  on  yourself,"  he  said  briefly. 
"A  loyal  man  you  are,  to  be  trying  to  steal  your 
chief's  seat  from  him  when  he  is  not  here."  And 
he  popped  back  into  his  seat  again,  very  well  satis- 
fied with  himself  and  his  argument. 

At  that  one  of  Ferdiad's  supporters  stood  up. 

"That  is  just  my  complaint,"  he  cried.  "Conal 
is  away,  and  who  can  say  when  he  will  return? 
He  fled  in  fear  of  the  law.  Are  we  to  be  left  leader- 
less  while  he  follows  Dathi  about  the  world?  I 
have  no  quarrel  with  Conal.  So  I  have  a  chief,  I 
am  willing  for  it  to  be  Conal  or  Ferdiad,  or  any 
man  of  the  family,  but  let  me  have  a  chief,  not  the 
name  of  one.  If  we  have  a  chief  his  place  is  among 
us,  and  Conal  is  in  Gaul,  or  the  high  gods  alone 
know  where." 

"But  Conal  is  here,"  said  another  man  farther 
down  the  hall.  "I  saw  him  but  a  moment  ago,  at 
the  gate,  talking  with  his  mother." 

There  was  a  little  stir  at  the  door,  a  shuffling  of 
feet  as  the  crowd  made  room;  a  number  of  men 
filed  in  and  took  their  place  just  inside  the  entrance, 
and  Conal  came  quietly  down  the  hall,  looking  calmly 
to  right  and  left,  and  saluting  his  old  acquain- 
tances as  he  passed  them  with  a  nod  or  a  smile. 


THE  CHAMPION'S  PORTION  359 

He  went  straight  to  Cathbar,  who  sprang  up  and 
embraced  him,  and  then  turned  and  faced  the  as- 
sembled flaiths. 

There  was  no  one  there  who  did  not  feel  with 
surprise  that  he  was  much  older  than  they  had 
thought  him.  There  was  an  unlooked-for  air  of 
maturity  about  him,  a  quiet  assurance,  an  easy, 
unassuming  confidence  that  would  have  fitted  a 
King,  or  a  battle  leader  at  the  head  of  his  men. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  kilt  and  cloak  that  had  once 
been  rich  and  gayly  colored,  but  were  now  so 
shrunken  and  begrimed  that  their  original  hue  and 
shape  could  hardly  be  made  out;  his  scabbard  was 
broken  and  roughly  mended  with  a  strap  of  un- 
tanned  leather,  and  the  paint  on  his  shield  was  so 
battered  and  defaced  that  the  bare  wood  showed 
beneath  it.  As  he  held  up  his  hand  to  salute  them 
his  loose  sleeve,  slipping  back,  showed  his  arm  and 
neck  seamed  and  crisscrossed  with  the  barely  heal- 
ing scars  of  a  score  of  vicious  gashes. 

"Is  there  to  be  no  welcome  for  me  among  so 
many  friends  and  kinsfolk  ?  "  he  said  with  some  sur- 
prise. "You  seem  as  amazed  at  the  sight  of  me 
as  if  I  had  sprung  out  of  the  earth." 

In  truth,  Ferdiad's  party  were  looking  at  each 
other  in  dismay,  for  after  Conal  men  had  come 
crowding  in  by  the  dozen,  hard-visaged,  sinewy 
men,  with  tattered,  rusty  cloaks  and  long-hafted, 
bright-bladed  spears,  until  there  were  now  near 
upon  a  hundred  of  them  in  the  hall,  massed  solidly 
at  the  door,  and  those  who  had  places  by  the  win- 


360         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

dows  could  see  that  the  whole  enclosure  of  the  dun 
was  filled  with  their  fellows.  Among  them  here  and 
there  they  recognized  warriors  of  reputation,  men 
of  the  High  King's  household  forces,  stout  old  vet- 
erans of  Niall's  wars,  and  adventure-loving  flaiths 
who  had  followed  Dathi  to  Gaul.  The  sight  of  these 
men,  evidently  come  in  Conal's  interest,  filled  them 
with  doubt  and  suspicion,  and  no  man  of  them  was 
anxious  to  draw  Conal's  anger  on  his  head  by  being 
the  first  to  speak. 

"You  come  unexpectedly,  my  son,"  Cathbar  an- 
swered him,  "and  it  is  no  wonder  if  we  feel  uneasy, 
seeing  so  many  strangers  with  you,  with  arms  hi 
their  hands.  Have  you  come  to  put  Ferdiad  down 
by  force?" 

"Why,  what  quarrel  have  I  with  Ferdiad?" 
asked  Conal  in  surprise.  "These  are  only  a  few  of 
my  followers  who  came  with  me  when  I  turned 
aside  on  my  way  to  Cruachan  to  greet  you." 

"A  few  of  your  followers!  By  the  gods  of  our 
people,  you  must  have  a  noble  escort  when  all  your 
following  is  with  you!  Since  how  long  have  you 
been  leading  armies?" 

"Since  Dathi  died,  or  a  little  after.  But  I  had 
forgotten  that  you  knew  nothing  of  what  has  hap- 
pened in  Gaul." 

"  Is  Dathi  dead,  then  ?  Do  you  not  feel  disgraced, 
having  come  home,  leaving  your  lord  behind  you 
slain  by  his  enemies?" 

"That  shame  is  not  on  us,"  answered  Conal  stead- 
ily. "No  enemy  slew  him,  but  the  power  of  the 


THE  CHAMPION'S  PORTION  361 

sky.  Moreover,  we  have  brought  his  body  home 
with  us  to  find  a  fit  resting-place  in  Cruachan." 

"That  was  well  done,"  said  Ferdiad  in  a  loud 
voice,  and  immediately  blushed  brick-red  and  looked 
at  the  floor  in  confusion. 

"Well  done,  indeed,"  agreed  Cathbar  proudly, 
peering  about  with  his  one  eye  to  see  how  the  others 
took  the,  news.  "But  about  yourself — what  feats 
did  you  do  in  Gaul  that  you  were  put  to  lead- 
ing men,  and  what  command  had  you?  What 
rank?" 

"Oh,  we  were  not  punctilious  about  that,  whether 
I  was  called  a  battle  leader  or  some  other  name. 
While  Dathi  lived  I  led  the  chariot  fighters;  after 
that  I  led  the  army." 

"What,  you?"  cried  Cathbar  incredulously. 

Conal  laughed  outright  at  the  Old  Champion's 
surprise,  but  his  followers  muttered,  as  much  as 
to  say  that  they  saw  nothing  so  remarkable  in  it. 

"Battle  leader  of  the  High  King's  fighting  men !" 
Cathbar  rolled  the  words  over  his  tongue.  "Did  I 
not  say  the  boy  had  spirit? "  he  challenged.  "After 
this,  who  will  dispute  his  right?" 

"Not  I,  to  be  sure,"  said  one  of  Ferdiad's  faction. 
"He  is  good  enough  chief  for  me,  and  there  are  too 
many  arguments  in  the  hands  of  his  men  for  it  to 
be  safe  to  question  him." 

"There  is  something  here  I  do  not  understand," 
said  Conal,  as  he  looked  keenly  into  one  man's  face 
after  another.  "  What  pressing  business  has  brought 
all  the  nobles  of  the  clan  together  here,  and  why  do 


362         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

you  talk  of  disputing  and  count  over  the  number 
of  my  friends  as  if  I  had  come  here  to  quarrel  with 
you?  A  moment  ago  you  asked  me  if  I  meant  evil 
to  Ferdiad " 

A  sudden  doubt  seemed  to  come  into  his  mind, 
and  a  flush  rose  on  his  cheeks  as  he  continued: 

"Can  it  be  that  you  have  cast  me  off  because  I 
am  under  the  ban  of  the  law?  Well,  I  suppose  I 
have  no  right  to  complain,  though  I  would  not  have 
thought  that  you  would  be  so  ready  to  abandon 
me.  If  that  is  it,  say  so,  and  I  will  go  my  way." 

"That  is  not  it,"  said  Cathbar  hastily.  "Shame 
on  us  if  we  were  anything  but  proud  of  you  for 
standing  up  for  your  name!  The  truth  of  it  is 
this:  after  you  had  gotten  safely  away,  Mesgedra 
suggested  that  we  make  you  tanist  for  the  sake  of 
the  protection  the  rank  might  give  you.  So  we 
did,  and  thought  no  more  of  it,  but  since  then  the 
old  chief  is  dead,  and  we  thought — at  least  Ferdiad 
complained — that  is,  it  seemed  to  some  of  the  clan 
that  it  had  been  done  hastily,  and  we  came  together 
to  talk  it  over." 

"So  I  am  chief,"  said  Conal  meditatively,  "King 
of  the  Tuath!  It  has  a  ring  to  it,  that  title,  has  it 
not  ?  I  am  curious  to  know  how  it  feels  to  be  called 
by  it." 

He  laughed  whimsically  and  turned  to  his  fight- 
ing men. 

"Speak  up,  and  salute  your  captain  by  his  new 
title." 

"Hail,    Conal,    King   of   Tuath    Fiacra!"    they 


THE  CHAMPION'S  PORTION  363 

shouted  in  ready  response  and  some  of  the  faiths 
of  the  clan  joined  with  them  in  the  shout. 

"It  has  a  fine  ring  to  it,  as  I  said,"  commented 
Conal;  "and  now,  Ferdiad,  a  long  and  merry  reign 
to  you,  without  the  shame  of  having  robbed  your 
brother  of  his  place,  for  no  man  can  make  me  chief 
against  my  will,  and  I  resign  the  rank  to  you  very 
cheerfully.  I  am  a  chief  already,  with  a  clan  of 
my  own — eight  sturdy  spearmen,  besides  women 
and  children.  What  would  I  do  with  another  clan  ? 
I  have  enough  to  trouble  me  as  it  is." 

"What  do  you  mean,  boy?"  cried  Cathbar  with 
indignation.  "Would  you  even  a  tribe  of  eight  men 
to  the  Children  of  Fiacra,  who  muster  five  hundred 
spears  when  they  take  the  field?  Will  those  eight 
save  you  from  the  law's  vengeance?" 

"No,  nor  your  five  hundred,  either,"  answered 
Conal  soberly.  "It  is  a  chief's  part  to  protect  his 
clan,  not  to  look  to  it  for  protection.  I  had  the 
whole  of  the  High  King's  army  at  my  back  had  I 
chosen  to  call  on  them  and  plunge  the  kingdom  into 
war.  But  I  made  my  choice  long  ago.  Farewell 
to  all;  death  waits  for  me  in  Cruachan." 

He  caught  his  spear  up  under  his  arm  and  began 
to  walk  slowly  down  the  hall  to  the  door,  and  they 
made  way  for  him  unwillingly,  nudging  one  another 
and  staring  at  him  open-mouthed. 

WTiile  he  was  speaking  a  trumpet  had  sounded 
several  tunes  at  the  gate  of  the  dun,  but  they  were 
too  much  taken  up  with  listening  to  him  to  attend 
to  it,  and  they  were  taken  by  surprise  when  it  rang 


364         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

out  again  at  the  very  door  of  the  house  and  a  voice 
began  to  cry  out  for  admittance. 

The  warriors  opened  a  lane,  and  Mesgedra,  in  all 
the  splendid  regalia  of  one  of  the  High  King's  chief 
attendants,  appeared  at  the  entrance  and  swept 
majestically  down  the  room.  His  robe  displayed 
the  six  mingled  colors  that  were  the  badge  of  his 
rank,  and  he  was  weighted  down  with  gold.  He  had 
a  tall  spear  in  his  hand,  green-shafted  with  silver 
rings,  a  sword  set  with  the  teeth  of  strange  sea- 
beasts,  and  a  shield  marvellously  wrought,  circle 
within  circle,  and  boss  upon  boss.  A  number  of 
flaiths  followed  him,  almost  as  gorgeously  attired 
as  himself,  Ronan  the  bard  with  his  harp  of  white 
bronze,  and  Eoghan  in  a  new  and  spotless  saffron 
gown. 

The  flaiths  rose  to  their  feet  at  the  sight  of  him, 
for  he  was  known  to  most  of  them,  and  those  who 
did  not  know  him  could  tell  his  dignity  from  his 
dress;  but  Conal  had  no  eyes  for  him  with  all  his 
splendor.  He  had  seen  a  green-robed  girl  enter  last 
of  all  and  stand  hesitating  in  the  doorway,  a  bright, 
bronze-haired  vision,  of  all  things  to  be  desired, 
radiant  with  happiness  and  triumph.  Their  eyes 
met  and,  seeing  him,  she  forgot  the  flaiths,  forgot 
everything  but  her  good  tidings  and,  pressing  eagerly 
past  Mesgedra,  stood  on  tiptoe  to  fling  her  arms 
about  his  neck  and  cried  in  a  voice  as  sweet  as  the 
message  it  bore:  "Pardon!  Laegaire  says  it!  All 
is  pardoned  and  forgotten!" 

Mesgedra's  face  beamed,  but  he  saluted  Conal 


THE  CHAMPION'S  PORTION  365 

with  as  grave  formality  as  if  it  were  some  other 
man's  daughter  who  was  clinging  fast  to  him  and 
twisting  her  fingers  in  his  cloak  as  if  he  might 
take  it  into  his  head  at  any  moment  to  be  off  and 
away. 

"I  bring  you  greeting,  battle  leader,  and  a  mes- 
sage from  Laegaire  the  High  King.  He  sends  a 
cup  as  a -gift  to  you,  and  a  token  that  all  past  offenses 
are  forgiven  and  the  ban  of  the  law  removed. 
More  than  that,  Leinster  is  hi  arms,  and  Laegaire 
has  need  of  all  his  champions.  He  bids  you  come 
to  him  and  serve  him  as  you  served  Dathi.  You 
shall  be  avenger  of  insults  to  him,  leader  of  the  Fir 
Tighe,  chief  of  all  his  fighting  men.  Your  reward 
shall  be  kingly:  fertile  lands  in  Meath  and  cattle 
to  stock  them  with;  fifty  cows  yearly;  fifty  wethers; 
fifty  ounces  of  silver;  fifty  mantles;  fifty  bronze 
caldrons  from  the  tribute  of  Leinster;  six  colors 
in  your  cloak;  the  highest  seat  in  the  Hall  of  the 
Mead-drinking,  and  the  champion's  portion  forever 
when  the  heroes  of  Eirinn  meet  to  feast." 

The  flaiths  of  the  clan  gasped  in  wonder,  and  the 
warriors  beat  their  shields  until  the  powdery  lime 
rose  in  clouds  and  the  din  of  clanging  brass  filled 
the  hall.  Old  Cathbar  sank  overpowered  in  his 
seat,  wagging  his  head  feebly  and  blinking  his  eye 
in  an  incredulous  transport.  Ferdiad  looked  at 
Conal  with  awestruck  eyes,  for  he  seemed  to  have 
been  suddenly  removed  to  a  great  distance  and 
raised  to  an  eminence  almost  more  than  mortal, 
while  Conal  himself,  white  and  breathless,  could 


366          THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

only  bend  his  head  and  say:  "It  shall  be  as  Lae- 
gaire  desires." 

Now  Etain  became  conscious  of  the  many  eyes 
upon  her  and  slipped  out  of  sight  behind  her  father 
in  rosy  confusion.  Mesgedra  made  a  sign,  and  at 
once  some  of  the  attendant  flaiths  flung  the  cloak 
woven  of  six  colors  over  Conal's  shoulders,  while 
others  pressed  presents  on  him — collar,  brooch,  belt, 
torque,  and  chain,  until  his  tattered  vest  was  hidden 
from  sight  under  the  finery.  Then  Ferdiad  pushed 
forward  to  his  side.  In  his  face  bewilderment  al- 
most comic  was  mixed  with  some  feeling  that  par- 
took both  of  shame  and  generosity.  He  unbuckled 
his  sword  as  he  came  and  held  it  out  in  his  hand. 

"You  will  not  refuse  a  gift  from  your  brother," 
he  said  gruffly. 

"Not  I,"  Conal  answered,  "still  less  from  my 
chief." 

"I  will  be  no  chief  of  yours,"  cried  Ferdiad, 
showing  plainly  that  to  his  mind  the  thing  was  not 
to  be  thought  of.  "If  the  clan  will  they  may  make 
me  tanist,  and  I  will  keep  your  place  for  you  when 
you  are  with  the  High  King,  but  as  for  setting  my- 
self up  against  you,  that  is  over  and  done  with." 

"That  is  the  way.  Let  Ferdiad  be  tanist,"  said 
Cathbar,  delighted  with  the  excellence  of  the 
thought,  and  all  the  flaiths  assented  with  a  shout, 
and  they  began  to  pour  out  of  the  hall,  carrying 
Ferdiad  with  them  to  prepare  a  bull-feast. 

Mesgedra  now  put  off  his  formal  air. 

"Well,   lad,   you   have   climbed   quickly.    Who 


THE  CHAMPION'S  PORTION  367 

would  have  thought  it,  eh?  To  think  that  only  a 
few  months  ago —  And  now  you  have  your  six 
colors  like  the  rest  of  us.  Well,  a  cup  of  mead  to 
your  new  rank,  and  a  hearty  wish  with  it ! " 

At- this  point,  perceiving  that  Conal  was  not  pay- 
ing the  slightest  attention  to  his  felicitations,  and 
that  indeed  neither  Conal  nor  Etain  seemed  to  be 
aware  that  he  was  with  them,  he  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders philosophically,  drank  his  mead,  and  took  him- 
self away.  He  left  no  gap  behind  him.  Those  two 
sufficed  for  one  another,  and  were  happy  in  silence 
for  a  time,  while  the  assured  security  of  the  present 
salved  their  hearts,  still  harrowed  by  past  pain  and 
fear. 

"There  is  some  cue  to  it  all,"  Conal  said  at  last 
wearily.  "It  cannot  all  have  happened  aimlessly 
— success  turning  always,  strangely,  to  misfortune, 
and  evil  that  somehow  in  the  end  led  to  good. 
See  how  I  have  gained  all  the  old  goals  and  found 
them  worthless  in  gaining  them  !  Have  I  not  tasted 
them  all? — the  favor  of  Kings,  bought  with  blood 
and  paid  in  trinkets;  power,  that  fetters  one  hand 
and  foot  with  hateful  duties;  and  glory,  the  tag  of 
a  bard's  tale.  Why  did  they  all  come  to  me,  and 
why  in  winning  them  was  I  tried  almost  to  tor- 
ture?" 

"Those  things  are  in  the  hands  of  the  gods," 
answered  Etain  wisely.  "And  I  do  not  know  (who 
does?)  whether  in  the  end  the  gods  mean  good  to 
men  or  evil.  Perhaps  the  druids  .know,  but  they 
keep  their  secrets.  Yet,  good  or  bad,  we  must  take 


368         THE  PORTION  OF  A  CHAMPION 

the  lot  they  give  us.    It  has  brought  us  to  find  one 
another;  this  at  least  will  remain." 

The  odorous  smoke  of  the  feast  drifted  in  to 
them  and  the  boastful .  voices  of  the  bards  rejoic- 
ing in  the  thought  of  war. 

That  day  the  Bishop  Patricius,  with  his  sister's  son 
to  bear  him  company,  took  the  road  to  the  seacoast. 
The  boy  joked  and  was  merry  as  they  went  along, 
but  the  old  man  kept  a  grave  face,  for  he  knew  that, 
whether  he  accomplished  his  mission  or  failed  in  it, 
he  had  said  good-by  to  home  and  friends  forever. 


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